Different Light
by labyrinths
Summary: AU: Jerry survives at the end of Fright Night and escapes with Amy.
1. Chapter 1

**Different Light**

**By Hedge Labyrinth**

AU: Jerry survived his confrontation with Charley.

* * *

><p><em>I can show you the world in a different light<em>

_Keep your heart to yourself_

_Give your soul to the night_

_- "Come to Me"by Brad Fiedel_

* * *

><p>"What will happen now?"<p>

"We will sleep."

Amy could not feel the burns anymore but she still _thought _she could feel the fire and that was bad enough.

"I want to see the moon," she said.

Jerry had almost finished piling the stones. He shook his head.

"There's nothing to see. There are clouds."

"I want to see. Nevertheless."

"Suit yourself."

She looked up, through the little hole that was left. He was right. No moon. Amy sighed and retreated to the back of the cave. She could see in the dark but it still freaked her out. The darkness. The self- burial.

A vampire. Afraid of the dark.

When he sat next to her – despite her misgivings – she moved closer to him, her hands trembling as she set them on his arm. She was too scared to shun him.

"What?" he asked dryly.

"Is this absolutely necessary?"

"I need to heal. To sleep. You too. You can thank your boyfriend for this."

Oh, Charley. He'd come to save her but by then it was too late. Way too late. She couldn't blame him for setting the place on fire. Not really. And if Amy had been brave, she would have just sat there and died. Instead, she had escaped with Jerry through a secret tunnel: her need for survival was too great. She was a monster now, but she was also a girl. A girl soaked in blood, skin singed, but still a girl.

_A girl who tried to kill her boyfriend_, she thought. _You tried to eat him_.

"How long are we going to be in here?" she asked.

"For a little while."

_Pray they don't find us_, Jerry thought. _It would be a bit lame to be killed by a fucking kid_.

Amy was still not used to that. When he talked without speaking. It hurt, like nails on chalkboard. She winced.

"Earth is our element. Don't be afraid of it."

"Sleeping in the dirt, in a cave, is too much like a tomb. Couldn't we find a nice, secluded house?"

"This is safer."

Well. Yeah. They were in the middle of the desert, in a national park, holed up on the side of a mountain.

"But can't you…can't we…"

"I've been injured badly. Blessed stakes are a bitch."

_I should kill you myself_.

_Careful, doll_, Jerry thought, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. _You wouldn't last a day without me_.

She sighed. That's exactly why she was there.

She looked at Jerry. His face was still a little mangled, fresh skin knitting itself over his brow and cheek. But he looked better. She didn't want to guess what she seemed like right now. She felt faint and the hole in the pit of her stomach was growing.

"Here," Jerry said, sliding a nail over his wrist and making a cut. "Have a sip before bedtime."

"I don't—"

"Drink."

He didn't give her a choice. He grabbed her head and shoved her lips against his wrist until she started slurping, the sweet taste of his blood seeming to cool her body. Like sipping chilled wine. When she pulled away, he grabbed her face between his hands and kissed her, hard. She moaned, running her hands down his chest.

As she sank back, Amy felt doubly disgusted with herself. First, she drank his blood. Now she let him kiss her. Again.

"We are going to sleep and when we wake up it will all be better," he whispered as he lay down next to her.

_I hate you_, she thought.

_Give it some time_, came the languid remark.

Amy closed her eyes. She felt his hand in her hair, an arm firm around her waist, the earth cool beneath her cheek. She thought it would be like this from now on. Both of them, nestled together, in the dark. Like scorpions.

Amy remembered what he'd told her in the club: it can be like a dream. It sure didn't seem like one right now.

_What I wanted was a boy who would show me the world, not a filthy, injured vampire pawing me in a god-forsaken hole. _

"We'll try the world," he muttered, "some other time. Close your eyes."

She squeezed her eyes shut and hoped her sleep was free of nightmares.


	2. Chapter 2

**Different Light**

**By Hedge Labyrinth**

AU: Jerry survived his confrontation with Charley.

Note: I've decided to continue this and do a few more scenes of Vampire-Amy and Jerry, though I don't really have a specific plot in mind. It'll be more like Amy learning some vampirism basics and getting used to her new life.

* * *

><p>Amy opened her eyes and she lay in the cave, in the dirt, frowning. There had been no dreams. Good or bad. Perhaps there would never be dreams. Nobody said vampires needed to follow the same sleep rules as humans.<p>

Vampire. That's what she was.

She should have screamed when Jerry had dragged her into basement. She should have helped Charley when he came charging in there.

She should have been a heroine.

_You did this to yourself_, she thought.

She sat up and saw Jerry had moved away most of the stones. They were getting out. She followed him into the night and saw that his skin had healed completely, though he looked a lot thinner, his elegant bones strained against the skin.

They found the car where they had left it. Not that anyone was going to come here in the middle of nowhere to look for it.

Fifteen minutes later they drove by a camp site. Jerry stopped the car and Amy frowned when he opened the door.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm hungry," he said, as though they were going to a fast-food joint for a midnight burger.

"No way."

He ignored her. Amy followed him as he approached the tent. She told herself she was not going to join him in there, but when she smelled the blood, she dashed inside the tent on all fours, growling like a wild animal. She lapped the blood greedily, the hunger taking over, just like it had when she had seen Charley.

Later, once she had her fill, Amy dashed from the tent, falling onto her knees and hugging herself.

"Oh my God," she whispered. "What did I do?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary," Jerry said.

"Shut up!"

"Well, you _are_ a vampire."

Amy turned her head. He was leaning against the tent, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Amy felt like throwing up.

"Yeah. Thanks for that."

She felt his nails sliding across her skull, razor-sharp. One nail trailed her spine.

"Mmm. It has its perks."

"Yeah, like ripping a couple of nature enthusiasts apart?"

"Yum."

She turned around and punched him. Jerry came back at her, pinning her against the ground, growling and showing her his fangs.

Amy was going to insult him six ways until Sunday, but all of a sudden his expression changed and he was tearing the tattered, soiled remains of her dress from her body, making her gasp in surprise. He slid a hand down her neck and Amy narrowed her eyes.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"What does it look like?"

"I didn't say you could touch me."

"Sure you did. First time I laid eyes on you."

He kissed her and Amy closed her eyes, wondering if she could pretend she was with Charley. But no. Jerry's touch was much too rough and determined for her to pretend anything. He moved back. She looked at him, digging her elbows in the dirt and propping herself half-up.

He was taking off his trousers and Amy let herself fall back against the ground once more, sighing.

"Can vampires have sex?" she asked.

He raised an eyebrow at her and chuckled. "What?"

"We read _Dracula_ last year and I didn't see any parts about sex. And you didn't…in the basement."

They had not had sex. Yeah, she guessed how she looked when she slinked out in her little white dress, smiling at Charley.

That didn't mean he hadn't touched her. He bit her wrists, bit her neck, bit the inside of her thigh until she felt she could no longer breath. He offered her his blood to drink and she lapped it up.

They hadn't had sex, but he'd gotten off just the same and Amy had gotten off too. She thought maybe vampires couldn't do the whole deed.

"We can correct that," Jerry offered her, dipping his head and kissing her stomach.

Amy supposed she should be disgusted and start screaming at him. But she was still shaken up by what had happened in the tent. She wanted to feel human. She wanted to see if they could be something more than animals. And frankly, she was curious.

Hell, she was already screwed. Might as well make it literal.

#

She found the errant moon she had been searching for behind his shoulder, dotting the night sky.

He nestled his face against her collarbone and she thought he might have said her name.

She did not say anything.

#

Amy slipped into some clean clothes, courtesy of the tent owners. The t-shirt was much too big, but it didn't have blood stains. She leaned against the hood and watched as Jerry pulled a cooler filled with beer into their car.

When he began setting the tent on fire, she turned around, trembling. She still remembered how it felt, the burnt skin. Amy rubbed her arms.

"Can we go?" she asked, unable to stand the stench of burned flesh.

Jerry shrugged and got in the car. Amy turned on the radio but all she could get was a preacher talking about hell fire. She turned it off.

"Where are we headed?" she asked.

"Nearest hotel's bathtub."

"Bathtub?"

"Hotel bathroom don't normally have windows," he said. "It's safe to sleep there."

"And after that?"

"I don't know. Still want me to show you the world?"

She punched him in the arm and he laughed uproariously, very amused by his own wit.

_Asshole_, she thought.

_Peckish? _came his smug reply.

He dangled an apple in front of her eyes. Something else he had taken from the couple of campers he had murdered. Amy looked away, crossing her arms.

"You steal from the dead," she said accusingly.

"They have no need for it," he said, taking a big, crunchy bite.

"I suppose you also pocketed their money."

"Should I give it to charity, you think?"

Amy didn't answer.

They drove in silence.

After a long time, she felt his hand knotting in her hair and he pulled her into a kiss. He tasted of the apple he had been eating. She bit his lower lip and he chuckled.


	3. Chapter 3

**Different Light**

**By Hedge Labyrinth**

AU: Jerry survived his confrontation with Charley.

* * *

><p>Jerry rested a couple of beer bottles next to the bathroom door.<p>

"What are you doing?" Amy asked.

"In case the maid can't read the 'do not disturb' sign and comes to bring us fresh towels, we'll know she's here," he said. "Also works against eager vampire killers."

Amy did not want to know what would happen if the maid did walk in and knock over Jerry's crude alarm device. She sat on the edge of the bathtub and felt rather sheepish, glancing at the white tiles.

Well, she'd done it alright. She'd had sex with him. And now the enormity of it was hitting her: she had been turned into a vampire, ate a couple of people, fucked a monster and checked into a motel. Not your everyday high school thing.

Jerry lay down in the bathtub and pulled her down over him. Amy let out a little squeak and tried to get out.

"What?" he asked, sounding irritated.

"Two people can't sleep in here," she said. "I'm mildly claustrophobic and—"

"Princess, you may get to sleep in a coffin one day, so shut up."

"A coffin? Really?"

"Dark, small spaces are your friends."

"But a coffin?"

"Coffins are fine. I've had a jolly good time in abandoned subway tunnels and sewers."

Sewers. Amy wrinkled her nose and stared at him. He looked serious. No joke.

"What happened to vampires having castles, hu?" she asked. "Are you some type of homeless, hobo vampire?"

"It ain't _Twilight_. And don't dis hoboes. I had fun riding the rails during the Great Depression. Lots of food for the taking."

"You mean lots of people to kill," she corrected him.

"The railroads hired 'bulls' to keep hoboes off the trains," he said. "They clubbed and shot them; anything to get them off the train. If I wasn't going to get them, someone was."

"Great logic."

"Better than dying with your legs crushed under the wheels of a train because you didn't make the jump. My deaths were clean."

Amy had a clear impression of running after a freight train and jumping into an open box car, sniffing for blood. She wasn't sure if she was imagining it or if Jerry was _showing_ her, what with their bizarre brain connection, but she shook her head, trying to wash away the mental image.

"Ah, don't fret it," he said, scratching her neck with a claw and smirking. "We won't be begging. I got a safe house in Tucson. We'll pick some money and documents and be on our way."

"A safe house."

"Vampire has to have it. You never know when someone's going to come and torch your home."

Amy thought about her boyfriend. She was pretty sure Charley and Peter had gotten out safely, but she couldn't know and she doubted it would be polite to phone and ask. Not that Jerry had given her a chance to phone, with them spending their time sleeping their injuries off. But there was a phone in the bedroom and maybe later she could pick it up, and—

And what, exactly? Her, Charley, guess what? I'm one of the undead. I get to sleep in a bathtub now.

_Fuck_, Amy thought.

And then another thought crawled into her head. She frowned and looked at Jerry very carefully.

"The Great Depression? How old are you, exactly?"

"Eh. Does it matter?" he asked. "What are you? Seventeen? Probably old enough to be your grandfather five times over."

"Gross."

"You asked."

"And you don't give a shit you kidnapped a minor?"

"I was fighting a war by the time I was your age. You're not going to get any moral outrage from me."

"Right," Amy said.

_Hell, maybe he does this all the time. Maybe he's an undead pedophile_.

_Really, Amy. It would be ephebophile considering you are way past puberty_, he thought. _And no,_ _I've got no compulsions of the sort_.

"Stop doing that," she said, annoyed that he could read her thoughts.

"Stop projecting," he said.

"How am I projecting?"

"You want me to hear you."

"I don't want any such thing," she said.

"Just like you don't want me to fuck you again?"

Amy tried to get out of the bathtub, incensed at the suggestion, but he just pulled her back down on him, wrapping his arms around her midsection.

"Don't worry," he muttered. "We'll fuck later. Sun is rising."

"I can't believe you," she whispered.

"Well, it is rising," he said mockingly.

He was telling the truth. Amy felt a certain laxness invading her body. Her eyelids fluttered. Suddenly it seemed like time was moving more slowly. She pressed her head against his chest and yawned, allowing his hands to caress her back languidly.

_We can't move around during the day time?_ she asked and forgot to open her mouth to speak. Though it seemed like such a chore to speak right then.

_You can't. You've only been turned for a short while. It would require a lot of effort. You must sleep for most of the day_.

_But in your basement I was awake. I was active._

_You had just drunk my blood._ _Not the case right now._

Man, summer was going to be a bitch. But then there would be winter and if they lived in a suitable latitude the night hours during winter might stretch pretty far.

Amy bit her lower lip. She didn't want to think like that. She didn't want to plan for day and night and resting periods and actives times. She especially didn't want to plan for anything with _him_. That would be mean she was accepting this vampire thing. Amy wasn't renouncing her humanity so easily.


	4. Chapter 4

**Different Light**

**By Hedge Labyrinth**

**Author's note: So, what do you think, readers? Any feedback?**

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><p>Aside from blood, Jerry thought there were only two proper food groups: beer and apples. He did not have a taste for human food. Such was the case with most vampire diets: except for one or two choice foods, anything but blood had little appeal and was hard on the body. Amy, however, seemed determined to prove some kind of point by ordering a hamburger, fries, a salad and a milkshake. He let her eat knowing full well she'd be throwing it all up a little while later. He'd warned her about it but she did not listen.<p>

"See? It's good she said," sipping her milkshake.

Jerry lifted his glass of water to her in a mocking toast and said nothing as they sat in the small all-night diner.

"Hey, I've been thinking…um, about some stuff," she said, a slender finger curling around a strand of hair, tugging at it nervously. "Why can't we rob a blood bank or something? Skip on the murders."

"Because people would notice blood bank robberies."

"Don't cops notice dead people?"

"People disappear and die all the time."

"Well…how about asking a volunteer for some blood?"

"Sure, Amy," Jerry said. "You know who is up for blood donation drives of that kind? Drug-addicts and prostitutes, all of whom need the cash. The problem is those are not the cleanest people."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Snack on someone with syphilis and tell me how you feel afterwards. It's like eating expired cans of tuna. You never want to eat a meth-head. Pot is okay. Annoying, but okay. Cancer, I'd stay away from that. The other little problem is they'll eventually try to blackmail you, tell someone about your little habit or outright attempt to murder you. Killing them is easier. "

"You mean murdering them," Amy said gingerly.

"Did you feel bad about the cow before you started chowing on that burger?"

Amy looked down at her plate.

"The suburbs are filled with fat, complacent, buttery, useless sacks of shit just waiting to get to the slaughterhouse. No more brains than a cow and no greater function in life than to kill themselves via excessive consumption of artificial food colorants." he said. "Besides, it's fun."

Amy grabbed a fry and pointed it at him. "I refuse to murder anyone."

"You will. When it becomes necessary."

Amy rose from the diner's booth. He grasped her flank with his hand, squeezing it as she walked by him.

"Where are you going?" he asked. "Feeling queasy?"

She did not reply and disappeared in the direction of the bathrooms. When she returned she pushed her plate of fries away and gave him a dark, angry look.

Jerry changed seats, sitting on her side of the booth.

#

He killed a hitchhiker about two hours later. Jerry did not even bother pulling him inside. He simply stopped the car and when the eager young man popped his head by the window, Jerry stretched out at hand and clawed his neck.

They were on a deserted stretch of highway so there was little danger of onlookers. Besides, people tended to look away at such situations.

Amy, for all her protestations, joined him and drank her fair share of the man.

He made sure the chap was dead – no need for him to rise again, they were travelling light – and dragged him away from the highway, eventually digging a hole and dumping the body there. Nothing but desert all around and the kid was a nobody with only twenty dollars tucked inside his wallet. He made a mental note to tell Amy about the basics of hunting: how to make sure you didn't leave any get behind, disposal of bodies and the like. Sometimes Jerry got sloppy and sometimes he just didn't give a fuck after all this time, but he did remember the vampire primer.

When it was all said and done, he pulled Amy down – no more than ten feet from the final resting place of their last meal – and began unbuttoning her jeans. She pushed his hands away.

"Stop it," she said.

"Come on. You want me."

"I do not."

"I can smell it on you," he said, sniffing her hair. "You have a need. A need which had gone unfulfilled for a while. How come Charley didn't tap your ass?"

"How do you—"

"Told you. Scent," he said, touching his nose.

"Charley was sweet and romantic. For your information, we were waiting for the right time," she said crossing her arms over her chest and huffing.

She'd been ripe for the taking when she had introduced herself, so Jerry concluded Charley was even more of an idiot than he previously thought.

"How'd that work out?"

Amy did not answer, scowling at him.

"I'm sorry for interfering with your whole purity-ring-or-whatever-other-inane-shit you were up to," he said, tugging at her jeans and pulling them down, "but I'm not Charley and I'm not a patient fellow."

"Does that mean open wide or else?" she asked with more than a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

"It means don't lie to me. Do you want me?"

She didn't deign to answer him.

For all her scowls, she had a look of wonder on her face when he kissed her. He liked that. He liked her impertinence melting into desire as she wrapped her arms around him. He liked how she arched her back and gasped in delight. She made him feel young and that was a pleasant treat.

Later, when she was trying to wipe the dirt off her skin, he gave her an appraising look and chuckled when she turned her back on him in an obvious effort to keep her bare breasts out of sight, as though there was still a space for modesty between them.

"Don't laugh at me," she muttered.

"Who else should I laugh at?" Jerry asked.

He bit her shoulder, lightly. The way a wolf might nip another in play.

"Three hours 'til sunrise," he said. "Let's get going."


	5. Chapter 5

**Different Light**

**By Hedge Labyrinth**

**Author's note: So, what do you think, readers? Any feedback?**

* * *

><p>Charley was falling asleep over the books, one hand wrapped around the bottle of whiskey. He felt Peter's hand on his shoulder and muttered a half-curse.<p>

"Kid," Peter said, his hand shaking him more forcefully. "Kid, it's after midnight. You should go home."

"Research," Charley muttered.

"Yeah. About half a bottle of it."

"Fine. I'm leaving."

Charley stood up and accidentally shoved the books he had been reading onto the floor. Peter's books. Books on vampirism and things that go bump in the night. Books which never had the right answers.

"I'm going," he muttered.

"Ah, have a cup of coffee. It'll help with the hangover."

Charley did not protest. He could use a cup of coffee. He followed Peter into the large, well-equipped kitchen and watched him as he tossed the coffee beans into a grinder and set the kettle on top of a burner.

Charley reached for Peter's cigarettes, which were sitting on top of the counter. Peter was still wearing his makeup and wardrobe from the show , eyes lined with a black pencil, and when he saw him grabbing the cigarette, those eyes narrowed into two small, black slits.

"Smoking too, now?"

"Bite me," he said, lighting it.

"You'll get cancer."

"So will you."

"I'm already fucked."

The kettle let out a loud whistle. Peter put the ground coffee in the coffee press and poured hot water in. Charley sat on a kitchen stool, observing the liquid inside the press.

"You can't beat yourself over it all the time," Peter said. "Otherwise you'll end up an obsessed middle-aged man with a huge vampire-hunting collection. With fake tattoos."

He knew Peter was attempting humour but he could not muster the necessary strength to smile.

"Aha."

"She's gone, Charley."

"I know she's gone. I didn't save her."

"You did try. Setting fire to the house was a good idea. We'd be dead now if you hadn't thought fast."

"And he got away," Charley muttered.

"End of story."

Charley slammed his hand on the coffee press and poured himself a cup, spilling a little coffee over the pristine counter. He did not bother wiping it.

"End of story? He killed my friend and kidnapped my girlfriend. It's not over yet."

"You can study as many vampire books as you want, Charley, but you're not going to find them. Besides, for all uses and purposes, Amy's gone. She's a vampire now. Even if you found her, what would you do? Stake the girl? You couldn't do it and you know it."

"I could find others. I could kill others."

_And maybe, one day, I could bump into them_, he thought.

"Christ, you're not seriously thinking in becoming some sort of vampire hunter?" Peter asked.

"Someone has to deal with them."

"I don't think that profession comes with health insurance."

"It's better than having nightmares about it," Charley said.

"Since when have you been having nightmares?"

Since the moment he had seen his girlfriend sporting about two dozen razor-sharp teeth. Since he'd watched, hopelessly, as she was whisked away into some sort of emergency exit tunnel by Jerry. Since then he'd had bad dreams; dreams with sharp claws and even sharper teeth.

Charley drank his coffee and smoked in silence.

"We can go out," Peter suggested. "I could take this gunk off and change into real clothes. We can pick up a couple of hotties…"

"I'm sorry. I'm not good company tonight," Charley said.

"You're not good company ever. "

"Story of my life."

Charley stretched a hand and pocketed Peter's pack of cigarettes. Peter frowned but said nothing.

"I'll see you around," Charley said as he headed towards the elevator.

#

Amy looked at her dirty hands, nails all black and filthy from their romp in the dirt.

She could blame their first tryst on hormones and confusion. Or something of that sort. But two times…two times meant she was into it. Into him. There was no denying it.

Amy observed the motel's front office and sighed. Jerry had gone to pay for a room and now Amy had been left to ponder too many things in the loneliness of the car. At least when he was around there was not much to think about. He was there, she was there, and there was nothing more to it. His barbed comments kept her busy. They gave her no pause. Now, though…now she could have time to feel ashamed of herself.

_You let yourself be dragged by a serial killer across the country. You let him turn you into his accomplice. You let him have his way with you_, said Morality Amy.

_I have no choice_, replied Sensible Amy. _I wouldn't be able to survive without him_.

_You don't even want to_ try _being without him_.

_I wouldn't know the first thing about being a vampire_. _He has his uses_.

_Oh, so this is just an education?_

_Sort of. A crash course in being undead. _

_And when you've learned the ropes?_

_Then I dump him. _

That sounded like a great idea. Amy nodded to herself, feeling a little better at the thought of ditching Jerry.

_You like him, _said a tiny, accusing little voice inside her head.

"No," Amy said loudly.

She turned on the radio. She did not want to have any more conversations with herself.

Jerry stepped out of the motel's front office, flashing a smile in her direction. Amy pressed her hands against the dashboard and sighed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Different Light**

**By Hedge Labyrinth**

**Author's note: I hope you are enjoying this.  
><strong>

* * *

><p>He pulled up the metal curtain of the storage unit and Amy blinked.<p>

"That's it?" she asked. "Your safe house is a self-storage locker?"

"One-hundred and fifty square feet of it," he replied. "We'll load some stuff in the car and be on our way."

Amy looked at the boxes and items scattered around. He had a lot of antiques. Probably stuff he had stolen or killed for in previous decades. Amy stopped before a large oil painting. It was Jerry, though he was dressed in a suit and waistcoat, with a derby hat perched atop his head.

"You were handsome," she said.

"I was?" he asked. "What am I now?"

Amy glanced at him. They were both still wearing the clothes they had stolen from their victims back at the campsite. Jerry had a large t-shirt which said "I Went to Cancun and All I Got was Hepatitis" and a pair of faded jeans. Not exactly stuff to wear to the opera. And he was still mighty hot. But she did not want to say that.

"You'd like me more if I tried to play the dandy for you, precious?" he said, tilting her head up with a clawed finger. "I'll have to kill a guy with a nice suit and a tie next time."

"Yipee," she said flatly.

"You've got some mouth," he muttered and the claw now rested on her bottom lip, tracing the curve of it.

He leaned down to kiss her, his lips barely brushing hers, and Amy felt a tingle go down her spine. She moaned softly.

"What do you want me to help with?" she asked, turning her head, a bit embarrassed by her reaction.

"There's a map somewhere in that desk," he said, smiling. "Get it for me, will you?"

Amy gladly moved towards the desk and began pulling out drawers. She unfolded the map and handed it to him.

"Where are we headed?" she asked.

"Somewhere I looked into. Rails Crossing, Colorado. Population 500."

"A small town? Why not a city?"

"Cities come with their hosts of problems. I don't think you're ready for them."

Maybe. But it was also easier to get lost in a city. She could slip away in New York or Los Angeles, and she bet she could be out of there faster than out of some little town.

"That's crap," she said.

Jerry raised an eyebrow at her. "You haven't even made your first kill, girl."

"Yeah, well, if I'm going to be a vampire I might as well be one somewhere that matters."

"You want to play in the big leagues? Fine. Then we go for the jugular."

"Which is?"

"Detroit. High crime rate, high unemployment and even higher stakes. But also, competition."

"Hu?"

"You'll see."

Amy did not know if she wanted to see, but Detroit was near Canada. Maybe she could make a run across the northern border and get rid of Jerry for good. Surely without Jerry she would not have to live the life of a monster. Maybe there were cures for this, or at the very least other ways to get blood. It did not have to be kill, kill, kill. It was Jerry and his pernicious influence which brought her wicked side out. Without him, she was certain, she'd be more...normal. Better.

#

Amy looked into one of the small boxes Jerry had brought into the car. This one was filled with stamps. After a little while, she put it down and glanced at the dark highway.

"Why do we have to drive? Wouldn't it be faster to fly"

"Airports have too many security checkpoints. Cars are the best way to get around. In a pinch, you can always sleep inside the trunk."

"Small, dark spaces," she muttered.

"You're getting the hang of it."

"What if you have to travel long distances?"

"By water," he said. "Pack some earth."

"I guess _Dracula_ was right about some stuff."

"Always try to sleep close to the earth, Amy."

She had his mental image – although maybe it was one of his memories, she wasn't sure about this – of being inside a narrow wooden box, earth beneath her, a rocking motion in the darkness. A ship.

_Denn die Todten reiten Schnell, _he whispered inside her head.

Amy blinked.

"Okay, how do you do that?" she asked, turning towards him.

"I told you. Projection. You are blood of my blood. We are connected. Thoughts, memories, it doesn't matter."

"Yeah, but I can't do it the same way you do it."

"Practice makes perfect," he said petulantly.

"And how do I practice?"

"Focus on something. Try to show it to me."

"Anything?"

"Any memory you like."

Amy closed her eyes. She tried to think about her room, the posters on the walls, the books on the shelves. Nothing seemed to happen.

"I don't think it's working," she said.

"Try something with an emotional connection."

"Like what?"

"What do I know? Something that made you angry, happy, sad. Don't people your age have a whole suitcase full of emotional issues?"

Amy opened her eyes, frowning. What could work? She closed her eyes and without even wanting to – some unexpected quirk of her brain pulling her in this direction – thought about Charley. The first time she had kissed Charley. They had been assigned to work together on a school project and he was doing his very best to seem nonchalant, only it was obvious he liked her. It was dorky and cute, and Amy had giggled when his cellphone rang and it played the "Imperial March" from Star Wars. He got red as a beet and she felt her heart twist a little. And she kissed him.

Amy snapped her eyes open. She turned her head and Jerry was giving a hard, unpleasant stare.

"Yeah," he said. "That's how you do it."

Amy opened her mouth to apologize and decided against it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Different Light**

**By Hedge Labyrinth**

* * *

><p>Jerry was leaning against the cash register. It was late and he was one of the few customers at the liquor store. The cashier smiled at him again. She seemed to be in her early thirties, with red hair and even redder lips and as she scanned the beer he raised an eyebrow at her.<p>

"So then, what time did you say you are done with your shift?"

"I didn't say," the woman replied.

"But you are done soon."

"In about an hour."

"I'm just passing through," he said. "Staying at the Arrow Motel for the night. You know where that is?"

"Yeah," she said leaning forward, showing copious amounts of cleavage.

"Why don't you stop there after your shift?"

"Feeling lonely?"

Jerry was bored out of his mind with this chit-chat but he attempted his best smile.

"Hey, they don't have apples at the mini-mart so I bought bananas. You can toss them if you don't..." Amy said, as she walked in, trailing off as she saw him.

"Yeah, yeah," Jerry said with a big shrug.

Amy stood under the harsh lights of the store, just frozen and uncertain. She had a little plastic bag in her hands and did not seem to know whether she should move forward or backwards.

"Well, that will be fifteen bucks," the cashier said, straightening up.

"So, you coming over?" Jerry asked nonchalantly.

"What about your friend?"

"My little cousin? We are headed to grandma's funeral and I got stuck babysitting the kid."

_Call me uncle_, he told Amy.

_You are a fucking pervert, _came the angry reply.

_Do it._

"Um...Uncle Jerry?" Amy said, her voice sounding like a squeak. "I'll be in the car."

Amy stepped out, turning once to look at him over her shoulder. Jerry smiled, giving the cashier a what-did-I-tell-you innocent look.

"Here's your change," the cashier said. "See you later."

"Room 12," he said.

Jerry flashed her another wolfish smile and joined Amy in the car. She looked at him pointedly but did not say a thing.

Once they were back at the motel, Amy stretched her arms and fell upon the bed with a sigh.

"I don't see why we can't sleep in a proper bed for one night," she said. "Bathtubs are cold."

"Because curtains open easily."

Jerry flicked the TV on and started changing channels at a quick pace. He stopped at the Jersey Shore and grinned.

"Well, I'm taking a very long bath in that tub before we go to bed. It's what tubs should be used for."

As much as Jerry appreciated the idea of Amy sitting naked and soapy in the tub, there were some practical considerations at hand.

"Don't take too long. I ordered dinner."

Amy nodded, heading into the bathroom. She poked her head out five seconds later, eyebrows knitted together.

"You don't mean that woman at the store?"

"What else could I mean?" Jerry said, pumping up the volume from the TV set.

Amy slid against the wall, crossing her arms.

"That's not...I mean you...I mean it...I can't stay."

"Don't be stupid" he muttered. "It's called hunting. Take some notes and learn a little."

"No, no, no," Amy said shaking her head and turning the door knob.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked.

"Taking a walk."

Jerry took off his shoes and laughed at the television.

#

He drank his fill and disposed of the body at an abandoned house he had spotted when they drove into the city. Then he drove back to the motel and found Amy easily enough, sitting at an all-night diner near a truck spot. She was sitting with her hair tied back in a ponytail, hands cupping a cup of coffee.

She could not drink the coffee and she knew it, but she held it, as though she were pretending she could drink it. Jerry pretended many human traits quite often but he did it for good reasons: to pass undetected, to hunt. Amy, he suspected, was doing it just so she could fantasize she _was_ human.

He walked into the joint and sat in front of her.

Amy nodded and kept holding her cup.

#

They were laying together in the tub, waiting for the sun to rise and sleep to arrive. She had her head pressed against his chest and he could feel the tension coiling through her body.

"You need to hunt," he said. "And you can't be afraid of using all your skills to get your prey. You're pretty. Men will want to fuck you. It'll be easy."

"I don't want to hear about that."

"What, still feeling jealous about that little red number?"

Amy lifted her head and pressed her hands against his chest, pushing herself away from him.

"You think I'm jealous?"

"Sure."

"Your mind powers are weak," she muttered.

Amy turned her head, staring at the tiles as though she could x-ray them.

"I didn't leave because I was jealous. I _wish _I had been jealous. That might have been an appropriate reaction."

She took a deep breath and let it out.

"I left because I did not care. The first thing that flashed through my head was 'good. let's eat.'"

"That sounds like an appropriate reaction."

"No, you don't get it," she said, staring at him angrily. "When we were in your basement I wanted to kill Charley. But I...I thought it was bloodlust. Just...an anomaly. But I've fed from the people you've killed and I would have killed and that..._not_ wanting to kill is the anomaly. My normal is murder. Don't you see how fucked up that is?"

"Baby, you're a vampire," he said simply.

She swatted his chest with her palm.

"I'm not an idiot! I get I'm a vampire!"

Jerry was beginning to feel irritated now. He sat up and pressed Amy against the wall, clutching her neck between his claws.

"No, I don't think you quite understand."

"I understand perfectly," she whispered. "I just don't want to live in this _Twilight Zone_ episode."

"Who the fuck cares about people, Amy?" he asked. "Who the fuck cares about the world? There's us and that is all that matters."

He let her go. Amy scooted away from him, sitting at the edge of the tub and hiding her face from him.

"The sun will be up in half an hour, girl," he said roughly. "Want to get a tan?"

"Fuck you."

He pressed his hands against the back of his head and whistled merrily. Fifteen minutes later she was sliding back into the tub with him. Jerry wrapped an arm around her shoulders, feeling smug. He had this really good line about vampire _fl__ambé_ he wanted to try on her, but then he felt her fingers on his lips. He frowned and looked down at her.

She was looking at his mouth with interest and he realized it was the fangs which had attracted her attention. She frowned.

"Is your name really Jerry?"

"What's wrong with Jerry?"

"It doesn't sound like a vampire name," she said with a shrug.

"Don't need some Eastern European garbage name to be a vampire."

"What were you like when you were alive?"

"When I was alive," he said, sliding his hands under her t-shirt, finding her breasts, "I didn't have a pretty little piece of ass like you."

"No, really..."

"Really. Dentistry has done wonders for humanity."

"How utterly romantic."

"Can't say I ever got the hang of romance" he said with a shrug.

She smirked and pressed down on him, kissing his cheek.

He felt the sun rising and stretched his body, settling an arm around Amy.

"It's Jeremiah," he muttered.


	8. Chapter 8

**Different Light**

**By Hedge Labyrinth**

AU: Jerry survived his confrontation with Charley.

**Note: Thanks for any feedback and Happy New Year! **

* * *

><p>Amy walked into the hotel room and stopped in her tracks. They had been staying in tiny, dingy little places. This room was huge and swanky. The bedroom had a fireplace complete with a white bear rug tossed in front of it, but that was not what she was interested in checking out first. She went to the bathroom and almost clapped her hands at the size of the tub. Jerry could talk all he wanted about the joys of small, cramped spaces but Amy was tired of sleeping in a narrow tub, folded like a piece of origami.<p>

She guessed Detroit was going to be a lot more awesome than she imagined.

"Can we afford this?" she asked Jerry.

"Now that we've got the stuff from my safe-house we can. Impressed?"

"No," Amy scoffed.

"I need to take care of a few things downstairs," he said. "I'll be back."

Amy walked back towards the bedroom. She eyed a bowl full of green apples and grabbed one, taking a crunchy bite.

The telephone by the bedside caught her eye. Amy set her apple down and approached it cautiously. She was with Jerry all the time with basically zero chance to make a call. But he was downstairs right now. She _could_ place a call. Would she?

Amy debated with herself for a couple minutes, then dialed the number. It rang and rang.

"Hello?" Charley said.

She held her breath.

"Hello? Amy, is that you?"

"Charley," she whispered.

"It is you!"

Amy pressed the phone tight against her ear. "Yeah. I called to make sure you were okay. I wasn't sure you'd esca—"

"I'm fine. Amy, where are you?"

_Detroit_, she thought.

Then she remembered what would happen if Jerry ever saw Charley again: Dead Charley. She shook her head.

"It's not important. I'm good. I wanted to make sure you are okay and I want to tell you I'm…fine."

"Tell me where you are. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"No," Amy said. "Just…go on with your life. Be happy."

"Amy, tell—"

She could not listen to his voice anymore. Amy hung up. She rubbed her arms feeling like a fool for having done this.

A loud knock on the door made her jump.

Images of torch-wielding villagers, straight out of horror films, crossed through her head. She realized, perhaps for the first time, just how safe she felt with Jerry around. He'd have no issues pulling the arms of the torch-wielding villagers out of their sockets.

If she made it to Canada, if she escaped him, could she do that? Could she ever feel safe without someone to watch her back?

_You're a big girl, Amy_. _There are no villagers at a damn hotel-casino_.

"Who is it?" she asked.

"Concierge."

Amy opened the door. Two men walked in. One was pulling two racks of clothes. The other carried several boxes. She thought they had made a mistake.

"What is this?" she asked.

"Your husband said to bring a selection of clothes from the boutiques for your inspection, _madame_. You can decide what garments you wish to keep and we will take away the rest. Phone us at your leisure."

"Um…sure," Amy said.

The door closed behind them and Amy looked cautiously at the clothes. There were some suits for Jerry, but her hands wandered towards the dresses. She took one off the hook and checked the size. It was the right one. Then she looked at the price tag and raised her eyebrows.

Amy wanted to handle this in a cool and collected manner. These were just clothes. But she could not help a touch of giddy excitement from bubbling up as she grabbed about half a dozen dresses and placed them on the bed.

She tried them all on. The last was her favorite. It was white, floor-length and the fabric was as soft as a dream, clinging to her body and baring her shoulders. Amy rushed towards the mirror, wanting to see herself…

…and forgot she had no reflection.

She stood in front of the mirror, staring at it. There was nothing there. She would never be able to see her face again. Amy stood frozen, with a hand pressed against her stomach.

"You look hot."

Amy spun around. Jerry was leering at her. He tossed a bag onto the bed.

"Underwear is in there," he said.

"Thanks," Amy muttered.

She thought about the phone call she had just placed and felt stupidly wrong for doing it. Like she had somehow betrayed him, even though Jerry was a mean, man-eating monster who deserved a stake to the heart.

"You don't look too happy for a girl who just bagged a $700 dress."

"I'm ha-happy," Amy stammered.

"Wanna lie to me a little bit more? You look cute when you do it."

Amy sighed. She crossed her arms. "I can't see myself in the mirror."

"Big deal. I said you look hot."

"You wouldn't understand," she whispered.

Jerry took a few steps towards her and gave her a little smile.

"Just see yourself with my own eyes and stop looking so damn depressed."

"What do you mean?"

"Projection. Look through my eyes. Just try it."

"I don't see how I could that."

"You are blood of my blood. Don't sell yourself short, girl. Here, come."

He stretched out a hand and Amy moved towards him. There was this bizarre sensation, like dipping underwater and when she bubbled up to the surface she was looking at herself, her expression wide-eyed. She caught strands of Jerry's thoughts…no…_emotions_. Lust, mostly. Then, tucked in some distant corner, affection.

Amy stumbled back into herself and almost lost her balance. He grabbed her, quicker than she'd thought possible, and spun her down onto the rug. They rolled in front of the fireplace, with Jerry nipping at her throat.

"Hey," she said.

He chuckled and bit on her wrist. Not hard. Just the slightest pressure.

She realized he was playing with her, like two wolf cubs might play. She flipped around, so she was on top of him and bit his ear just a little. She rested her hands against his chest and cocked her head a little.

"I should get out of this," she said. "I don't want it to get messed up."

"There are five other dresses."

"Yeah, but I like this one."

"Then take it off."

"Look away."

"No."

"I'm not your vampire stripper."

"Now you have to take it off," he said as he bunched up the dress.

She'd had sex with Jerry, but Amy still felt weird about taking off her clothes with all the lights on and everything. That was the kind of stuff lovers did and she had a hard time imagining Jerry as her lover. He could be 'that vampire dude who turned me and had sex with me' but 'my lover' was like some seal of approval.

"I want to wear it a little longer," she said.

"I'll rip it in half," he whispered and she knew he damn well meant it.

Amy huffed and opened the clasp holding the fabric in place. It tumbled down her body and she crossed her arms against her chest; a reflex she could not prevent. Jerry, of course, simply grabbed her hands and brushed them away, flipping her so she was once again beneath him and he could ogle her in peace.

His eyes fixed upon hers, with a curious look in them. Like he was trying to figure something out.

He cut his palm with a nail and smeared his lips with blood, kissing her. A surge of pleasure made her throw her head back and scratch his arm with her nails.

Then he smiled, opened his mouth and bit her neck. He drew blood, but it was pleasant. Like in the basement.

"Never share your blood with anyone but me," he said, his voice very low.

"Is that another lesson or plain old possessiveness?" she asked.

"Yeah. I'll explain later."

"Yeah to which part?"

Jerry smirked. "To both."

Amy bit into his shoulder.

_A dress and a smile and you think he's just dreamy_, said Snide Amy.

_He's not_ _dreamy_, Sensible Amy said. _I know he's bad for me_.

_But do you even _care _anymore? _

Amy was willing to consider this question. However, the pressure of Jerry's lips against her neck made her close her eyes and file it away for a later time.


	9. Chapter 9

**Different Light**

**By Hedge Labyrinth**

AU: Jerry survived his confrontation with Charley.

**Note: Feedback keeps me going. **

* * *

><p>Amy lay on the rug, stretched out, her head resting against her hand. She wished she could get up and grab a blanket but she thought it would seem childish to wrap herself like they were in a PG-13 movie after he had seen everything there was to see. And Jerry didn't like it when she attempted modesty. It just made him laugh.<p>

"I literally know almost nothing about you," she told him.

It weirded her out. That she could be so intimate with someone and understand so little about him.

"What you should know about," he said, "is vampires."

Jerry was deflecting her. Great.

"I feel another Jedi lesson coming."

"You'd be right. Pay attention. There are ten vampire houses and then however many cabals branch from there. Each cabal has its thralls, its half-bloods and its full-bloods. Now your thrall is your basic pawn. Stupid, follows orders, easy to make."

"How do you make one?"

"If you feed off someone several times in a short period of time or simply draw a lot of blood in a similarly short period of time, they will turn. That is why you have to be careful with your get. You don't want to leave random vampires laying around by accident. Either take them into your fold or kill them after you've fed."

"Practice safe vampirism."

Jerry smiled one of his patented not-quite smiles. She had the feeling he was always snickering about her behind her back. She was the source of unintended, perpetual amusement.

"Your half-blood has been bitten by a vampire but has also tasted a little vampire blood. Write them off as middle management."

"Like me?"

"You are upper management, sweetheart; just like me," he said brushing a lock of hair from her face. "A full-blood. We shared our blood without restraint and we are bonded."

"I feel special," she deadpanned.

"You are. You get to boss the halflings and the thralls around. Now, there are three important points to remember. First, you cannot create your first full-blood until some thirty years have passed."

"Why?"

"It takes a toll, one which you would not be able to endure. Second, you may only sire one full-blood every seventy years. Knock yourself out with thralls and halfbloods. We want to keep the hierarchy looking like a pyramid"

"What's the third point?"

"I think I'll keep that to myself for now. I wouldn't want you to know everything too soon."

"You mean you want to control the information I receive," she said.

"You can't learn to run unless you walk, precious."

Amy looked at him, pursing her lips.

"Hey, if you can only make a full-blood every seventy years when was the last time you made one?"

"A while back."

"Okay, and why did you pick me for upper management?"

"I have a thing for blonds."

She slapped him on the chest. Jerry almost looked shocked at the gesture.

"Seriously," she said.

"Call it instincts. I tend to have a knack for picking the right people. You seemed like you might be...interesting."

"It still sounds like a rash choice."

Though, somehow, she figured Jerry tended to do most things on impulse. So much for being a centuries old vampire. Maybe all male vampires were immature.

"Bah. It's paying off. So far."

"How come I don't get any vampire super powers? If we're so cool and superior, why aren't we turning into bats?"

"You really want to turn into a bat?" he asked, pulling her towards him and making her sit on his lap, facing him.

"It would be something."

"I'll show you a couple of tricks one day," he said, kissing her neck.

"I don't mean like tricks in bed," she clarified.

"How about you get to control your own pack of wolves?"

"I can do that?" she asked, eyes growing wide. It sounded kind of cool.

"Not a lot of wolves around here. If you can settle for stray dogs, sure."

Amy placed her arms around his neck and tilted her head, carefully analyzing his features.

"I'd still like to know about you," she said. "What you were like before you became a vampire, for example."

"Because it would make me seem more human?"

"How about because I want to? Come on. Tell me something and I'll tell you something."

"I know what I need to know about you," he said.

"I'll start," she said, ignoring him. "My favourite book is _Great Expectations_."

"I don't like to read. TV is more fun."

So much for the classy, sophisticated vampires who never drink wine. Amy wondered what Jerry had done before someone invented cable television.

"I cut my foot with a glass bottle when I was 10 and I still have the scar," she told him.

"You wouldn't want to know where the scars come from."

"I like the smell of lemons."

"Is this what passes as deep soul-searching and interconnection for you? Because it's terribly bland."

"I dunno," Amy said, looking down.

_You sound like a moron, Amy Peterson_, she thought.

He cupped her face with his hands and tilted it up, definitely amused with her, his smile showing a bit of teeth.

"I'm sorry if I didn't have the forethought to court you and introduce myself properly before I vampirized you. But I've always thought the 'get to know you' is bullshit. We share a bloodline. You'll know me, in time. Besides, would you like me any better if I told you I used to dine with Lord Byron?"

"Did you?"

"If it makes you horny, I did."

He was not taking her seriously at all. Amy sighed and rested her head against his shoulder.

"You don't get it, do you?" he said, his voice sharp at the edges.

"What?"

"Life sucked for me, pun intended. So excuse me if I don't want to look back and romanticize it. And as much as you may want to think I was once good and noble – probably because it would make you feel better to know you're not shagging a complete bastard – I wasn't. There's not much more to it. You can fret about it and whine like a little girl. Or not."

"Don't be stupid. I am taking you as you are," she said, feeling affronted. The sentence spilled suddenly from her lips. It was completely honest. And completely not what she intended to say.

His sardonic half-grin was eclipsed and his eyes seemed very dark.

"Maybe," he said.

He pulled her up, onto the bed, tossing away the dresses she had left there, and turned on the television. He flipped through the channels until he found _Hell's Kitchen_.

During a commercial break he chuckled, bending down to place a kiss on her hairline.


	10. Chapter 10

**Different Light**

**By Hedge Labyrinth**

AU: Jerry survived his confrontation with Charley.

**Note: Feedback helps write. **

* * *

><p>Peter was having a very pleasant dream involving redhead twins. Then came Charley's insistent "Peter, wake up!" and Peter opened his eyes, smacked his lips and rued the day he had given the kid access to his penthouse. He had done it because he felt bad for the poor thing. Maybe Charley needed a place to have a drink and mourn in peace. Peter did not think he'd be popping in at all hours of the night.<p>

"I'm up. Stop shaking me," Peter muttered. "What the hell is it?"

"I found Amy. She's in Detroit."

Peter blinked. He stretched his arms, trying to get the unpleasant tension in his back to disappear. He had fallen asleep in the living room, on the floor, with his head at a weird angle.

"How do you know that?"

"She phoned me. She wouldn't tell me where she was, but I dialed *69 and it took me to a hotel in Detroit. We've got to head there."

"You think that's a good idea?"

"Peter, a monster has my girlfriend prisoner."

"No. Your girlfriend is a monster."

Charley's face was all displeasure. The boy had dark circles under his eyes and it looked like he had not had a decent meal in days. Peter softened his tone, feeling sorry.

"Look, Charley, I know you're worried about Amy. If we go to Detroit, she's just going to have us for breakfast. Like, we'll-be-on-the-menu breakfast."

"You're suggesting I leave my girlfriend with a vampire."

"Charley," Peter said standing up and placing a hand on his shoulder, "I'm pretty sure she's _his_ girlfriend now."

"He brainwashed her."

Peter recalled the way Amy had been all over Jerry when they were in the basement, kissing the vampire. He wondered how much was 'brainwashing' and how much was 'horny teenager meets handsome dude.' Not that he could bring that up with Charley.

"I'll go alone if I have to. I'm just going to borrow some of your equipment."

Charley headed towards the area with Peter's artifact collection, pausing to look at the glass cases. Peter followed him with a groan.

"Come on, Charley. Think logically. Even if we find Amy and she does not kill us, what do we do next? Buy her a ticket for Vegas and ask her to quietly come back home? Hey, maybe she can join my show, as long as she promises not to murder too many cast members."

"We find a cure. A solution. Even if that doesn't work, at least we've killed Jerry."

"How much of this is about helping Amy and how much is it about killing Jerry?"

"Is there a difference? If you're too scared to do it, that's fine."

Peter rubbed his mouth with his hand. His throat felt dry.

"If we're going to Detroit, then let's think about it. Let's do this right. You can't rush off there in the middle of the night."

"If we wait they'll be gone and we'll have lost the trail," Charley replied.

"If they're in Detroit then they've gone there to establish new hunting grounds. They're not going anywhere."

"How do you know that?"

"I need a drink. Come back to the bar. I'll tell you."

Charley did not seem to sure about that, still looking at his glass cases, but when Peter shuffled to the bar, he went with him. Peter got behind the bar and poured himself a Midori, offering one to Charley. Peter grabbed a cigarette and lit it, waiting a heartbeat before speaking.

"I've heard some stuff about Detroit and vampires on the Internet."

"Where on the Internet?"

"The scaryurbanmonsters website," Peter said and Charley made a face he raised his hands in the air. "Don't knock it. The truth is always lurking in obscure Internet forums. There all these rumors about Detroit. It's supposed to be the hottest vampire zip code in the nation."

"Why is that?" Charley asked.

"It's one of the most violent cities in the country. There are lots of abandoned buildings ready for the taking. Supposedly there are a number of vampire cabals competing for territory."

"Cabals?"

"It's like a vampire family. If Jerry's in Detroit, it's fair to guess he's gone there for the delicious buffet and he probably intends to stay. That gives us some time. Some options."

Charley picked his drink, nodding.

"Then let's go as soon as we can."

"Yeah, after you've had dinner," Peter said getting out from behind the arm and giving Charley a slap on the back. "When was the last time you had a warm meal? You need all your protein for your vampire hunting."

"I'm not hungry."

"Sure you are. You just don't know it. You can't live off cigarettes and booze, kiddo. Trust me," he said pointing a thumb at himself. "I'd know. Let's go eat something and we'll look at the weapons I've got when we come back."

Charley nodded weakly. Peter smiled, though he felt his gut churning. He had the feeling this was not going to turn out well.


	11. Chapter 11

**Different Light**

**By Hedge Labyrinth**

AU: Jerry survived his confrontation with Charley.

**Note: Reviews are like tips: appreciated.  
><strong>

* * *

><p>She was jumpy and a little intimidated, and he liked that. It made him smile because she was a vampire and still afraid of shadows. He spread his arms, showing her the expanse of the lobby and then pointed towards the stairs.<p>

"Six floors," he said. "I purchased the whole building."

"A whole apartment building?"

"Well, it's cheap, already boarded up and I don't mind having the space."

Everything was dusty and old, the carpet stained and ugly, but this had been an art deco building and it showed in the light fixtures, which were glowing dimly, and in the dark wood paneling.

"It's spooky," she whispered.

"I'll show you the basement."

They went down the stairs and he flicked on a bare bulb to reveal the basement, windowless, and the boiler at one end of it. Dozens of bags of earth rested against the walls.

"This is where you're making your little terrarium?" she asked.

"This is where we'll sleep," he said.

"Yaaay," Amy said, sounding not at all pleased.

He did not mention he'd had a bed and some furnishings delivered to one of the apartments on the third floor. It was more fun to have her think they'd have no chairs or tables.

"What will the neighbors think when they see we live in a boarded-up building?"

"What neighbors? It's Detroit. Whole streets are boarded-up and nobody gives a shit. If anyone asks, we're an enthusiastic young couple renovating the place."

They went up the stairs and Amy paused to look at the open iron elevator cage with little geometric designs. She pulled the cage door and stepped in, looking up, then stepped out again.

"I bet it doesn't work," she said.

"Who knows. We've got work to do. Someone to meet."

They stepped outside and Jerry locked the door.

"Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Yes?" he said.

Amy looked towards one side of the street and then the other. It was deserted, except for a cat meowing loudly and a homeless man sitting under an awning, muttering to himself.

"Have you ever been chased by an angry mob of villagers with torches?"

He stopped under a street lamp, laughing at the question. He pulled Amy's chin up.

"Like in _Frankenstein_? Sure. But you can't be too paranoid. It's not healthy."

"Aren't you–"

"Hey, girl," he said. "Stick with me and you'll be fine."

#

The nightclub was incredibly crowded, sweaty bodies jammed against each other. Amy did not like it. It reminded her of the place where he had bitten her for the first time. He'd smeared his lips with blood, kissed her and before she knew it she was half-way to becoming a vampire.

Amy frowned and stared at Jerry, hating him as he walked with her across the club, and also feeling oddly excited because all those sweaty bodies were little receptacles of blood.

"Let's see how good you are at this," he said positioning himself behind her and whispering to her ear. "Where are the vampires?"

Amy looked towards the second level and the people glancing down at the dancers, across the dance floor, towards the DJ, pausing at the bar area where the bartenders were mixing drinks.

"How am I supposed to know?" she said. "There are way too many people."

"You should know."

Amy sighed. It was pretty much pointless...

...and then she felt this little tugging. A familiar sensation.

Amy narrowed her eyes and raised a hand, pointing at the second level.

"That corner. Over there."

"Atta, girl."

He grabbed her by the hand and pulled her up the stairs. This was the VIP area, with wide, circular tables and less people.

The vampires were sitting all together, lounging on couches, and resting behind a cordoned area. She skimmed over the thralls – and was shocked to know which ones were thralls just with a sweep of the eyes – and focused on the guy sitting in the middle. He was wearing large sunglasses and a black suit, and he sat like he was posing for a picture. A woman behind him leaned down to whisper to him as they approached.

"Johnny," Jerry said as they walked together. "Turned in 1975. Formerly a small-bit actor. Typical of his generation: bland, flashy and wears too much hair spray."

"Your friend?"

Jerry gave her a toothy-grin and shook his head. "No. But he commands one of the largest cabals in the city."

Jerry and Amy stopped in front of the man. Amy noticed that there were several humans sitting with the vampires. None of them looked too healthy, heads lolling and stupid smiles on their faces.

The vampire took off his sunglasses very slowly and leaned back on his seat, chuckling.

"Jerry Dandridge. I don't think I expected to see you again after you killed the Master back in '99."

"The Master," Jerry said dismissively. "You're still calling him that? You younglings play too many video games, Johnny Alucard."

"I am Jonathan, thank you very much," the man hissed. "When did you roll into the city?"

"Very recently."

"Hmmm. New friend?" Johnny asked, biting on one of the arms of his sunglasses a little and glancing at Amy. "What's your name?"

"Amy," she said. "Nice to meet you."

"Very nice indeed. Can you come closer? I want to get a better look at you."

Jerry's hand tightened around her shoulders, nails digging into her skin.

"Sorry, Johnny. This is my girl."

"You're such a party pooper. We're all family," Johnny said shaking his head and smiling, though the smile was sour. "So, I gather you're here for the territory?"

"There seems to be enough of it."

"You'd be surprised. There are so many competing cabals, loose get roaming the streets...life ain't what it used to be in the 80s, that's for sure. However, I am a generous man and despite some of your...deeds, I'm willing to be nice. In the name of old friends, the bloodline and all that."

Johnny leaned forward, smiling like he was selling toothpaste. He spoke very cheerfully.

"Normally I'd ask for a 30 percent cut from any new vampire rolling into town, but I'll bill you down to 10."

"Good old Feudalism," Jerry said. "What would we do without it?"

"You must pay a toll, to someone. If it's not me, it'll be one of the other cabals. You know that, Jerry."

"I understand, Johnny."

Johnny seemed very pleased with himself. All the vampires next to him nodded.

Jerry leaned down, resting his elbows on the table and staring at Johnny, a lazy smile on his lips.

"I understand you are a completely suicidal if you think you're going to have _me_ bend the knee to _you_."

"I have a cabal with hundreds of vampires," Johnny said, his words silbant and loud. "What do you have? One girl?"

"Look, you little turd. You are going to give me access to your territory. No strings attached. Then you're going to tell the other cabals not to mess with me. I don't want any thralls to come crashing through my door. You hear that?"

"Or what? You an your little friend will take on all of us?"

"Yeah," Jerry said. "I think we will. Hell, I'm feeling bored."

Amy thought they were about to die which seemed bizarrely ironic considering that she was now an immortal creature. To perish weeks after her transformation seemed kind of cruel.

"Come on, Johnny Alucard," Jerry whispered. "You know me."

Johnny was quiet. Then he smiled crookedly and put his sunglasses back on.

"Well...I suppose I could be generous. For the bloodline."

"Of course," Jerry said pressing his hand against his chest, with mock emotion. "Everything for the bloodline."

"I'll ensure you are not bothered."

"Good," Jerry said. "Oh, I almost forgot. _Pensus in cruor_? Sorry. I'm a stickler for details."

Johnny grit his teeth, like he was having his appendix removed and took out a coin. The vampire slammed it on the table and cut his finger with a sharp nail, dribbling a couple of drops of blood on it.

"_Pensus in cruor,"_Johnny said_. _

Jerry grabbed the coin, carelessly thrust it in his pocket and nodded.

"Wise choice."

The turned around, the conversation apparently concluded. Amy had no idea what had just happened and she was not sure she wanted to find out. When he was next to her, she quickly clutched Jerry's hand.

He glanced down at her, amused, and they walked down the stairs together.

#

"What the hell?" Elisha muttered, leaning down behind Johnathan. "You're going to let them get away with that?"

"That's fucking Jerry Dandridge," Jonathan muttered. "He's insane."

"Yeah, and you just pledged–"

"Nothing I could do. I needed some time."

"Time for what?"

Johnny shook his head, pressing a hand against his lips.

"Did you see that girl?"

"Some whore he vampirized before walking in, no doubt," Elisha snickered.

"No," Johnny said with a little hollow chuckle. "I'd recognize a full-blood."

"So even worse. _Two_ of them."

"One could look at it that way. On the other hand, maybe it's a nice opportunity."

"Meaning?"

Jonathan pushed back his glasses with his index finger.

"I've got a feeling she's going to be the death of him."


	12. Chapter 12

**Different Light**

**By Hedge Labyrinth**

AU: Jerry survived his confrontation with Charley.

**Note: Reviews are nice.**

* * *

><p>Amy sat in the car, watching the lights change from red to green.<p>

"I thought we were going to die," she admitted.

"Yee of little faith," he said, smiling.

"No. Seriously."

"Vampires are very territorial. You have to draw clear lines."

"It looked like a pissing contest."

Jerry shrugged. He was all bravado, wasn't he? Maybe also a little stupid because Amy sure as hell wouldn't have gone angering a whole gang of vampires, right in their turf.

"Did you have to do it?" she asked. "Couldn't you just have paid him his tax?"

"Sure. And he'd probably have taken you as a down payment. Can't have him touching my property."

So that's like he saw her. She was a thing. She was the toy he'd gotten with his Happy Meal. Not that it surprised Amy, but it still sort of stung.

"I'm not yours," she said angrily.

"I stole you," Jerry said, giving her a very certain glance. "Of course you're mine."

Well, then. That's how it went. Caveman hits other caveman with big stick and takes off with the girl. He was positively Medieval. Probably _literally_ Medieval.

"What was that about bloodlines and that coin?" she asked, wanting to change the subject.

"Vampires are total snobs. My bloodline is superior to Johnny's. I am of the House of Clarimonde. Besides, I'm older than him. He had to bow his head to me."

"So we were totally safe?"

"No. He could have also killed us," Jerry said with a shrug. "But he doesn't have it in him. You have to be more confident, girl. You're someone now. You tell them you're with me and they'll manage the necessary respect."

"I think you look a bit more intimidating than I do."

He grabbed her chin between his fingers, making her look at him. His eyes were very dark and serious.

"It has nothing to do with what I look like. I was once nothing but a grubby soldier who couldn't write his name."

"You're still grubby."

He laughed merrily and patted her cheek. "Don't have lice anymore, do I?"

Amy had this vague impression – likely one of his memories – of a dirty, badly dressed man hunching by the road, his hair in his eyes.

"Where did you fight?"

"Thirty Years' War," he said.

She felt emboldened by his answer and decided to ask more.

"How'd you decide to become a soldier?"

"I was hungry."

"Who did you fight for?"

"The Holy Roman Emperor and the Catholic League."

"You are a vampire now and you fought for the Catholic League?" she asked. "That's hilarious."

"We killed 20,000 people at Magdeburg and burned it down," he said, his voice so sharp it could cut her. "Yeah. It was a riot."

Amy glanced down and looked at her hands.

"Sorry," she muttered.

"It doesn't matter," he said, with a curt wave of his hand.

She should have asked him about Johnny and that 'Master' guy, but it was hopeless now. Jerry had clammed down and did not speak a word to her until they reached the apartment building.

#

"Not in there. In there," he said pointing an irritated finger at the second door.

Amy rolled her eyes and turned the knob, walking into the apartment. She was grateful that he had at least considered they could not spend all the time hanging out in the basement, but the sight of the living room with only a large television set and a couch was not very uplifting. It was like a bad copy of a real apartment.

"I bought a mattress."

That meant there was a bedroom. Amy slipped down a hallway and opened a door, revealing a large room. He'd bought a rather nice, large cast iron bed. He had even purchased sheets and made the bed, which was probably a big deal for him because Amy pegged Jerry as more of a bare-mattress-I-don't-give-a-shit sort of guy.

She fell back upon the bed, running her fingers idly over the frame. It was kind of romantic. The kind of setup she pictured when she was human, in her dreams. Only in her dreams there were candles and the windows were not boarded up. Close enough, under the circumstances.

She turned her head upon the pillow. He had left a bag there. Amy figured it was more underwear. He had bought her some lacy things that were positively embarrassing but she figured she'd be wearing them at some point. Now what? A garter belt?

She grabbed the bag and it felt heavy. Had he brought her a brick so she could practice bludgeoning people?

She opened the bag and pulled out a book, of all things. It was old, wrapped in violet cloth, with a little wear on the spine. She opened it to find she was holding _Great Expectations__._

"It's a first edition, but it's just the first volume," he said as he stood in the doorway, one arm resting against the frame. "Thought it'd be classy."

"You got me a book?"

"What, should I have gotten porn?"

"No, but…why?"

Jerry went towards the bed and laid down next to her, smiling, and she knew he was just trying to _own_ her in some other, twisted way. Because having compliant arm candy was somehow not enough. But he was handsome and intriguing. And something in her blood called for him. And when he placed a hand against her thigh, she wriggled closer. And she didn't want to like him but when he kissed her she could already feel her hate was dying a little and thoughts of Canada, of running, were being erased.

Amy didn't mean to. She had never meant any of it, from the moment when she had stood in stunned wonder, staring at him after he kissed her for the first time; to his basement when he stretched her out before him; to the moment now, in this room.

She did not trust him and did not know him, but she wanted him; wanted his arms holding her tight. It felt easier, better, that way.

She let Jerry touch her, wrapped her legs around his waist and knew she was very, very stupid.

#

He didn't drag her downstairs, to the cool earth where he wanted to sleep. Well, the windows were boarded against the rising sun and Jerry knew she wanted to stay in bed. Jerry was willing to show his generosity. Besides, she looked kind of nice half-wrapped in the bed sheets, her blond hair splayed upon the pillow.

"I don't get you," she muttered as he parted her hair with a sharp nail.

"What's to get?"

He pushed his forehead against hers, feeling lazy and content.

"Tomorrow you go hunting," he said. "You need to know how to get a meal."

Amy yawned, her eyes fluttering, heavy with the need for sleep.

"Do I have to?"

"Yes. It'll be easy."

"Mmm," she said nestling closer to him.

She grew quiet and he thought she was asleep, but then she spoke, only a whisper.

"Can we dream?"

"Rarely," he said and remembered promising her a dream.


	13. Chapter 13

**Different Light**

**By Hedge Labyrinth**

AU: Jerry survived his confrontation with Charley.

**Note: Reviews are appreciated.**

* * *

><p>The skirt was very short and Amy felt exposed as they leaned against the bar. Jerry could talk all he wanted about hunting tactics but she did not see why she had to wear stilettos and a mini in order to catch her prey. He had probably asked her to dress like that just so she could fall flat on her face. Anyway, Amy was not sure she'd be able to actually, you know, <em>hunt<em>. But since there was no dissuading Jerry she leaned against the bar and listened to him.

"Well then, if you were picking a tasty meal, who would you pick?" he asked, gesturing around him.

Amy looked around the bar. She was not very much into this. She pointed at a bunch of young men at the other end of the bar.

"One of those."

"Bad choice."

"Why? Won't one of them do?"

"They're in a group. Four of them. Look for the lone victim. Easier. Otherwise, his friends might remember you. They'll tell the cops he went off with a pretty blond with the sexy legs."

"They're drunk. They're hardly going to point me out in a lineup."

"Are they drunk?" Jerry asked innocently. "If you'd been paying attention you'd have noticed they arrived ten minutes ago."

"Fine. They're not drunk. Does it matter?"

Jerry leaned down, smoothing her hair, grooming her like she was a doll.

"Let's say you pick one of those guys," he whispered. "What do you do after you have his attention?"

His left hand rested against her hip. His lips so close to her ear sent a shiver down her spine. The hunt seemed very unimportant compared to the other things they could be doing.

"Um…I ask him to take me to his place," she muttered.

"Wrong. You're very distracted."

_It's because you are distracting me, you asshole_, she thought furiously.

Amy squeezed her eyes shut, repeating what he'd told her earlier. "We don't go to people's places. We bring them to our...lair..."

"Because we don't know the layout of their homes. Or the weapons they may have. Whenever you can, have them come to you," Jerry added, patting her cheek. "Now, pick a victim. This time, make an effort."

"Can we call it something other than lair? It's cheesy...it's..."

"Focus."

Amy pouted. She glanced at the men and women in the bar, concentrating. On the other end of the room, near the door, a group of businessmen were bidding goodbye to each other. She noticed they had little nametags – convention goers, visitors? – and they were looking a bit sloshed. One of them seemed unwilling to part with his friends. He sat back down, tapping his glass and smiling half-heartedly.

"Maybe that one," Amy said.

"Why?"

The man looked middle-age and had a wedding band on his left hand, but she had noticed him flirting heavily with a woman. The woman, however, had left and the fellow was now looking dejected and all alone, his companions gone.

"He's trying to score," she said. "He's not doing a very good job at it. Plus, he's a tourist."

Well, she _thought_ he was a tourist.

"Well then, go and get him."

Amy looked back at Jerry, nervous.

"What…like now?" she asked.

"No time like the present. I'll see you at home."

"I have to transport him home?"

"Car keys," he said, placing them in her hands. "Drive safe, baby."

"You're not helping?"

Jerry stood up and put on his jacket. He kissed her cheek and smiled.

"Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime."

#

The big thing they don't tell you at Jerry's Vampire Academy is how hard it is to keep a horny medical supplies salesman's hands off your boobs. The man was part of some convention, just as she'd thought, and he tried to impress Amy by telling he had an expense account and they could charge anything they wanted to his room. Amy tried hard not to roll her eyes and suggested her place instead of his hotel, mindful of Jerry's talk about bringing the prey into their lair. The guy agreed and so far so good. But as soon as they exited the bar and began walking towards the parking lot where she'd left the car, the guy turned into an octopus. He kept trying to feel Amy up.

Amy was horrified and tried not to show it, fixing a plastic smile on her face.

When they reached the car, she quickly looked for the keys which she had carelessly stuffed in her bag.

She felt the man's hand insinuating itself on her buttocks.

"Hey," she said, irritated. "Knock it off."

"Hey," he said. "I'm gonna pay you, alright?"

The words were slurred and he had obviously mistaken her for a prostitute. Or maybe he thought all women needed a little extra incentive to sleep with the likes of him. Amy winced.

"Save it for later."

Octopus Man, not one to take a hint, shoved a hand down her shirt. Amy, pissed off, nervous and hungry to boot, did what came natural: she bit the hand. The guy howled in horror, but she fixed that quickly, her razor-sharp teeth sinking into his throat, tearing it apart like a candy wrapper.

She did not think. She merely acted. As she sat atop the guy's chest, drinking greedily, she heard footsteps and raised her head.

"I could have been a cop," Jerry said casually, strolling towards her.

Amy growled in response, like a dog which is unwilling to share its bowl. Jerry quirked an eyebrow at her.

"I did say take him back to our place. Now we have to put the damn body in the trunk."

_Who are you to preach? You're not exactly Mr. Subtle_, she thought.

_Do as I say_, _not as I do_, he replied.

She almost laughed at that. It was the kind of thing an adult would say to a child. In a fucked up way, she supposed Jerry was her mentor.

He knelt down next to her and bit the man's arm. He looked quite frightening like that and far from human. Once, it would have scared Amy. She found she did not care anymore.

The coppery, warm blood slid down Amy's chin. She bent her head down, drinking again.

#

Amy lay in the center of the bed, curled up and staring at the sheets. She had spent an hour in the shower. It had not helped. She still felt like shit. Jerry hovered into the room. He was shirtless, beer in hand, and she could sense his curiosity.

"Don't you have to watch _Keeping Up With The Kardashians_ or something?" she asked, irritated by his silence and his fixed gaze.

"Why are you upset?"

The honesty of the question hit her like a punch to the gut. She sat up and opened her mouth, aghast. Finally, she spoke.

"I killed someone. Not in self-defence, not in—"

"Oh, _that_."

It sounded like she had spilled apple juice on the floor and mopped it up, but Amy had murdered a guy. Then she had him for dinner. That the enormity of this event did not reach Jerry at any particular level made her want to hit him.

She should kill him. Kill him now and flee to Toronto. Become a vegetarian vampire, if there was such a thing. If there wasn't, start a trend.

But she was too tired to even attempt violence against him. Amy curled up on the bed again and resumed her examination of the sheets.

Jerry slid next to her. She had her back to him, but she knew he was smiling snidely.

"You don't get it," she muttered. "I used to be Amy Peterson. I lived on Fir Street, number 145. I went to high school, I had a boyfriend, I liked drinking very big smoothies. Now I'm…I'm not Amy. Amy wouldn't have done what I did. That wasn't Amy. And if I'm not Amy…who the hell am I?"

She expected him to make fun of her. He was quiet. That was bad. If he'd make fun of her, then she could deal with it. Silence she could not stomach.

Amy turned around, hoping for his big, swaggering grin. He looked serious and Amy thought she was about to cry.

"Jerry," she said.

She kissed him, surprising herself with the forcefulness of it. It was he who normally approached her. He who initiated anything between them. He picked the tune and Amy just danced to it.

She pushed him against the bed and straddled his hips. His fingers splayed over her abdomen and he looked at her curiously.

She kissed him and kissed him, and maybe she even cried a bit, and he surely did not understand, but he kissed her back and kissed the tears away. Halfway sadness and halfway rage, and somewhere in between she called him by his other name.

#

"Jeremiah," she said.

It sounded very odd, coming from someone else's lips and he almost paused to consider if that's the way it _should_ sound.

Later, as he glanced at the pale body next to him, he tried to remember how long it had been since anyone had called him that and felt a bit offended that she'd used that name.

But she'd done it with no intent to spite him. He understood that much.

Jerry touched the curve of Amy's back, tracing a circle with a nail.

"I like you," she whispered.

His nail hovered over her spine. He smirked.

"You like fucking me."

"No."

"Evidence to the contrary."

She rolled around, her eyes meeting his.

"I do like you."

Despite his great reserve of indifference, Jerry felt a little proud about that. Maybe even thankful.

"It makes me a horrible person," she added with a brittle sigh.

He laughed brightly, coaxing a kiss from her. "Birds of a feather, girl."

His tired fingers wove into her hair and he ran his other hand down her chest, a little dazzled, he must admit, by how pretty she looked that very instant. The prettiest, sweetest thing he'd ever had.

#

"All by myself, don't wanna be all by myself anymore..."

The radio went quiet just as a hand jabbed him in the ribs.

Peter Vincent removed the pillow from his face and snorted. He turned towards Charley.

"Wha? Wha? Are we in Detroit yet?" he asked.

"No. In a couple of hours," Charley muttered. "It's your turn to drive. Let's switch."

"Half a tiny hour, Charley. I just need a bit more sleep."

"Switch."

Peter groaned. Charley stopped the car and Peter jumped out, circling it and taking the driver's seat. He wished they had taken a plane but he supposed security would not look kindly at a suitcase packed with stakes.

Peter rubbed his neck and placed his hands on the steering wheel.


	14. Chapter 14

**Different Light**

**By Hedge Labyrinth**

AU: Jerry survived his confrontation with Charley.

**Note: Reviews are very appreciated.**

* * *

><p>He watched television and she sat next to him, reading her book. It was the closest he had gotten to "normal" in quite some time. He found Amy soothing, while at the same time oddly invigorating. Before meeting her he had been – to be completely honest – rather bored. That was why he decided to start a cabal. That was why he was interested in seeing how many people he could kill before anybody noticed something was wrong in suburbia. He had been waiting to see who'd show up to take on the role of the most recent vampire killer and when Charley had thrown his hat in the ring, Jerry had even toyed with the boy a bit.<p>

It gave him something to do.

Jerry had never been one of those depressed vampires like in the movies, bemoaning his existence. He dealt with his post-life with the same matter-of-fact attitude he had always dealt with everything. Shit happened. One day you were an illiterate peasant, the next you had turned into a mercenary and then one fine day you were a vampire. Want to cry about it? Not him.

No, Jerry had not suffered through bouts of depression and nostalgia, but he did, on occasion, become bored.

He was bored out of his skull in Nevada.

Then he bumped into Amy.

He felt young and he wasn't bored anymore.

Jerry glanced at Amy. Her legs were draped over the sofa's arm, all bare and tantalizing. He extended a hand and touched her hair. He liked touching her. A lot.

"Why don't we have any furniture?" she asked, her eyes still fixed on her book. He'd bought it for her but somehow he didn't expect her to actually read it.

"What do you mean?"

"We don't have a table. We don't even have a stove."

"What would you cook on a stove? What would we eat on a table?"

"I don't know. The place looks so bare. Can we get a desk?"

"I thought girls wanted jewels and shit."

"I thought vampires had really nice castles with candelabrums and lots of antique furniture."

"Castles are drafty."

She stood up and he grabbed her hand, pulling her back.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"I can't read here. I'm getting distracted."

"I can't let you go," he replied and he grabbed her by the waist, making her sit on his lap.

Amy was wearing one of his white undershirts. It was way too large for her. He pinched a bit of the fabric, frowning.

"I bought you nice stuff. Why aren't you wearing that?"

"You bought me stuff that looks like it came out of the Victoria Secret's catalogue. I can't be sitting around and be comfortable in lacy underwear."

"Says who?"

"Says the one who has to wear it."

"You're lucky it's not the 19th century or I'd have you prancing around in a corset."

"When it comes to nightgowns, please let me do the picking."

Jerry thought it would be much better to lounge around the apartment in little thongs with tiny red bows and lace bras. He shrugged, deciding this was another one of these Amy things he couldn't understand.

Jerry touched her chin, smiling.

"You are very pretty."

Amy rolled her eyes. "So I've been told, by a number of boys."

"You are sweet. You are kind. Has any boy told you_ that_?" he asked, polishing the words with his tongue.

She was not smiling at him yet, probably because she'd also heard those before.

She kissed him on the cheek and went to the bedroom.

#

"I told you we should have come sooner," Charley said. "What use are damn supplies and plans if she's gone?"

Amy was not at the hotel he had traced her to. They had asked at reception for her and for Jerry. No dice. They had watched the lobby for any signs of her. Three whole days they had watched and Amy was nowhere in sight. Charley knew this was going to happen. He just knew the trail would go cold.

He wanted to punch Peter smack in the face.

Peter raised his hands, protesting his innocence and Charley turned around, furious with himself. He lit a cigarette and frowned, observing the darkening skies.

"There is somebody in Detroit who could help us find them. Supposedly he knows everyone," Peter ventured.

"Who?"

"Well…if you believe certain rumours…Johnny Alucard."

"Then let's get moving," Charley said, wondering why they had not gone to that guy in the first place.

"There is one tiny problem," Peter said.

"What?"

"If you believe those certain rumours Johnny Alucard is a vampire."

"Where do we find him?" Charley asked without hesitation.

#

Jonathan sat in his office, observing the club below through thick window panes. He could feel the beat of the music under his feet and the life of hundreds of patrons rushing through their veins. It made him hungry. He was about ready for a snack.

Jonathan walked over towards the divan where a young woman lay sprawled. He opened his mouth, fangs extruding. A knock at the door made him raise his head and sigh.

"Jonathan, there are a couple of guys to see you," Elisha said, holding her clipboard against her chest.

"I have no appointments tonight and no desire to see anyone," he replied. "Toss them out."

"One of them is that vampire hunter man from Vegas. Peter Vincent."

"Isn't that some silly, glitzy show? What the hell does he want here?"

"They say they're looking for Jerry Dandridge."

Jonathan stared at Elisha, nodding slowly.

"Well…that changes things. Let them in."

Jonathan took out his sunglasses and put them on, sitting down in his great leather chair and lacing his fingers together.

#

She lay down on the bed, reading for a good forty or so minutes before Jerry turned off the television and padded in, quiet and curious. He sat next to her.

"What's that book all about that it's more interesting than me?" he asked.

He sounded almost like a spoiled child who had not gotten his way because she had not been impressed with his compliments. It made her want to giggle.

"You really haven't read _Great Expectations_?"

She could not believe he had not at least watched the movie version of it. On the other hand, Jerry liked reality TV shows, inane comedies, raunchy scenes and violent films. He had hollered at The Three Stooges but she had not seen him enjoying a costume drama. Plus, in Jerry's days there was no high school curriculum which demanded the reading of certain classics and she doubted that nowadays he'd bother with night classes. Except maybe to eat the whole class.

He shrugged. "I don't read much. I didn't learn how to read 'til I was sixty-five."

"There you go again, crushing my expectations of a cultured vampire boyfriend," she said with a dramatic sigh.

Jerry raised an eyebrow at that.

"Crushing?"

He actually looked a bit…pained by her casual remark. She smoothed the hair back from his brow.

"I'm kidding. It's about this orphan who falls in love with a girl and dreams of becoming a gentleman so he can woo her."

"Does he get the girl?"

"It's not the point of the story."

"Then it's a very bad story."

Amy smiled and scooted back, resting her head against his shoulder.

"Well, you may know nothing about literature, but it's alright. Although I would have liked it if you had met Lord Byron," she said.

"I did meet Lord Byron," Jerry said. "He was an asshole."

She laughed at the dry remark and something about it and the way he cocked his head made her love him for the very first time.


	15. Chapter 15

**Different Light**

**By Hedge Labyrinth**

AU: Jerry survived his confrontation with Charley.

**Note: Reviews are ****most**** welcome!**

* * *

><p>Johnny Alucard looked like a rich daddy's boy. The smile on his face, however, betrayed his age: it was too old, too polished, too knowing for a man in his twenties. He wore sunglasses and sat on a massive chair, with all the aplomb of a king holding court.<p>

Charley didn't like him. But Charley didn't have many options.

As they walked towards the man, Charley noticed the movie posters around his office. One of them said in bold, capital letters PHANTOM OF THE DISCOTHEQUE. A young man who looked just like Johnny Alucard appeared at the forefront in head-to-toe white.

"I know. The 70s, right?" Johnny said. "Great decade. Sadly, that was my last film. Vampires don't do very well on camera."

"I've seen that," Charley said.

Charley noticed a girl laying on a divan, apparently asleep. She looked pretty, pale and sickly.

He thought of Amy and looked at Johnny.

"Well then, to what do I owe the pleasure of Peter Vincent, Masters of Dark Forces and his assistant?"

"Well, Mr. Alucard–" Peter began.

"Jonathan," the vampire muttered. "I make ONE lousy movie playing Dracula's son and I have to get that stupid nickname for eternity?"

Charley had no idea what movie he was talking about, though judging by the posters on the walls Johnny Alucard had been on his way to horror B-movie obscurity when he stopped making pictures.

"What should we call you?" Charley asked politely.

"Jonathan," the vampire muttered.

"I'm Charley. We are here because we want to find Jerry Dandridge."

"Why? Does he want some take out?"

Johnny broke into a cackling laughter. The vampire who had escorted them inside and Peter both laughed nervously, but Charley did not find it funny. He kept his lips pressed tight.

"We want to kill him," Charley said.

Johnny took off his glasses and his smile grew wider and more dangerous as he sized Charley.

"Sonny," he said softly. "Don't you know Jerry and I were buddies? The Master and us two: like 'em three musketeers. The 80s...man the 80s were a riot. We ruled California."

"He wants to kill him," Peter said pointing at Charley. "I just want to point that out. I'm just here to offer moral support."

"Yeah, well your buddy kidnapped my girlfriend and I intend to get her back."

"What? Sweetie blond pie?" Johnny said.

"Her name is Amy," Charley clarified. "You've met her, then? How is she?"

Johnny studied his fingernails, perhaps checking if his manicure was still looking good. If vampires could tan, Charley was sure this guy would be under a tanning bed 24-7, sipping cocktails and talking on his cellphone. He definitely looked...Hollywood.

"She was hanging from Jerry's arm last time I saw her. I hate to break your bubble, but if you lost her to Jerry, you _lost_ her. He's not returning any merchandise."

"You know? I've been trying to tell him the exact same thing," Peter said. "And since that's clarified, maybe we can go–"

"Yeah, not so fast," Johnny said, inching forward.

Peter gulped. Charley knew the older man was doing his best not to pee his pants. As for Charley, he felt oddly numb about his fate.

"You say you want to kill Jerry? You know how difficult that is?"

"I almost did it once already," Charley said. "So spit out his address, which I'm sure you have, and let us go."

"You know who you're talking to, chum?"

"The boy is ADD," Peter explained waving his hands frenetically. "He hasn't had his medication. He says the darnest things. He doesn't mean any disrespect."

"Yeah, I get what you are," Charley said, snickering. "Some big-deal vampire dude."

"Big-deal vampire dude could have your breakfast," Johnny replied.

"But you haven't," Charley said. "I'm guessing the reason: you don't like Jerry Dandridge much or you wouldn't be talking to us."

Johnny scoffed, but ultimately wagged his finger at Charley.

"I like you. You've got guts. Elisha, I'm famished. Give me a hand here. Do you mind if I take a nibble?"

Elisha unceremoniously grabbed the girl who lay on the divan and dragged her towards Johnny, dumping her at his feet. Johnny pulled her up, biting into an arm. Charley opened his mouth to protest.

"Don't worry," Johnny said. "It's a blood cow. They sell themselves to us and we pay them for their blood. It's the new world economy."

"I don't think she has much blood left," Peter muttered.

"Yeah, well, hazards of the trade."

Charley closed his eyes in disgust for a second, reminding himself he was not in Detroit to kill just _any_ vampire. He was there for Jerry. He'd kill him, rescue Amy and they'd never, ever have to see another fanged monster again. He wasn't quite sure how he was going to deal with Amy's vampirism, but Charley was an optimist. There had to be a cure. Somewhere. Somehow.

"Mmmm, where were we?" Johnny said smacking his lips. "Oh, yeah. I don't like Jerry. Nope. I haven't liked him since he killed the Master. But seeing the way things are, there is nothing I can do about it. I'm not fool enough to go pull him out of his lair."

"Then tell us where he is and we'll kill him ourselves."

"Charley, that's the name right?"

Charley nodded.

"Charley, you don't go into a vampire's lair. First rule of the game. He'll kill you super fast and then what? No, you want Jerry, you've got to lure him out."

"How?"

"The girl, Charley," Johnny said, clapping his hands with excitement. "You get the girl and then you get your ass to my place. When he gets there, well...maybe you and your magician can arrange a little accident via stake? Think you can do it? She'll go with you?"

"Amy's still Amy," Charley said. "She'll come with me once she sees us."

He hoped that was true. It had not been true in Jerry's basement, but that was because...probably because the vampire had been so close to her. But she'd phoned him later. If he could somehow get to her on her own he was sure she'd be back to her normal self.

"Trapping a vampire is no easy thing. You think you're up to kidnapping her?" Johnny asked.

"We won't need to kidnap her."

"We've got blessed iron chains aplenty," Peter said. "That part shouldn't be...well, even if she doesn't want to leave...shouldn't be too much of a problem. That is, if you're still up for this?"

Peter was giving Charley a pointed look. A look that said 'let's go back to Vegas.' If Charley had been a sensible young man, he would have agreed with that look, charged back towards Peter's penthouse, and forgotten the whole thing with the help of some booze. But he was tired of drinking to assuage his wounds. Charley wanted payback.

He had been denied his rightful place as the hero, but by God, this time he would get it right.

#

"Stamps? Why not jewels?"

"Well, they're small and easy to carry, yet still highly valuable."

They were in the basement, laying on the dirt. The sun had gone up but Amy was sipping from Jerry's wrist, imbuing his blood. It kept her awake. Kept her going even if her muscles were feeling lax. Soon, she'd just give in and let a pleasant sleep wash over here. But for now, they talked.

"Yeah, but specializing in collecting stamps seems so...dorky."

"It's not for fun. Everything I keep, I keep because it has a certain monetary value. Pay attention and learn your lesson."

Amy frowned and peered at him, making out his features even in the darkness. She wondered if she was another one of those practical items Jerry kept at hand. She must have a going rate. Unlike the Mastercard commercials, she doubted she was priceless.

"What's mine?" she asked.

"Sorry?" he asked.

"What's my value? You talked about vampire taxes and down payments. How much am I worth in vampire land?"

"You're not going on auction."

"No, but vampires are total snobs, right? You lorded yourself all over Johnny and that means you are higher up the hierarchy. Am I higher up too? How high? How many vampires can I kick around?"

He laughed, apparently delighted with her question. Jerry pushed a lock of hair behind her ear and pressed a finger to her lips.

"You can lord anyone around, except for two houses: Namun and Saint Germain."

"Na-mun. And...Saint Germain? Sounds fancy."

"I was at Saint Germain's court, as a bodyguard to Romuald du Clarimonde, envoy of our house."

He frowned, pulling his hand away.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing."

"Tell me."

He didn't reply. Irritated, she decided to find out herself, delving into his mind like he'd taught her. She caught a flash of a thought – _Master Saint Germain_ – before he clamped down, shoving her out and digging his fingers into her arm.

"Don't ever read me when you are uninvited," he said, his voice so low it was a growl. "It's not polite."

"Sorry," she said.

"Look, you stupid girl, I am extremely generous–"

"That hurts," she said.

It really did hurt. His claws were out and digging into her flesh. It was like being mauled by a tiger. Or what she imagined being mauled by a tiger might feel like.

"I ask for a few simple things. Respect. Privacy. I do not know why you are so interested in ransacking through my past–"

"It hurts!"

Jerry released his pressure, only slightly, but it was enough. She pushed herself away from him, her heels digging into the dirt as she bumped against the wall. Amy crossed her arms over her chest and tried hard not to sniffle or tremble. Vampires didn't sniffle. Vampires were not afraid of the dark.

He was quiet and she did not attempt the smallest word.

"Come back here," he said.

"No," she said.

He was there, right by her. Fast as lightning. Of course he would be.

Soon enough they settled back on the dirt-covered floor, her head pressed against his chest. He was restless and angry, but he hugged her tight despite his irritation and she let him hold her despite the pain he'd caused her.

_I _am_ stupid_, she thought.

When he spoke, it startled her. His voice was so monotonous he might be reciting a grocery list. It had none of its usual cadence.

"I've respected very few people in my life. I respected Saint Germain."

"But you killed him," Amy whispered. "That's the...'Master' Johnny was talking about, wasn't it?"

"Killed him good."

"Why?"

"I killed him before he killed me. You see Amy, give people enough time and they will all eventually disappoint you. Betrayal is inevitable amongst our kind."

"That's a very negative view of the world."

"I've seen the world. It holds very little goodness in it, if any. For example, I expect you'll leave me to die one day."

"You're mean."

"Oh, then. Should I assume ever-lasting devotion from you?" he asked, dripping sarcasm.

Amy didn't have an answer. She brushed his cheek with her fingers and felt sorry for him. It was silly, pitying such a big predator, but she felt there was a great amount to pity.

He clutched her face between his hands, tipping it up.

"Why?" he asked.

She had no idea what he meant and could only stare at him in confusion. Amy kissed him, because she thought it was the most comfort she could offer, and he took everything she had to offer, as he always did. Greedy, terrible creature.

#

_Why? Why do I like you so much? _

That's what he'd meant to ask her and ended up asking nothing, clamping his lips shut.

He looked at Amy as she slept and remembered one thing he had yet to teach her: never have anything to lose.


	16. Chapter 16

**Different Light**

**By Hedge Labyrinth**

AU: Jerry survived his confrontation with Charley.

**Note: Reviews are ****most**** welcome!**

* * *

><p>The beat of the music combined with the sweeter sound of beating hearts and Amy looked around the nightclub with careful eyes, surveying the people. Jerry was at the other end of the bar, flirting with a girl in a short, purple mini-skirt who sported a hackneyed flower tattoo on her left shoulder. He was bored and every little while he'd whisper a snide little comment into Amy's mind about the morsel he was standing with. Amy giggled and snorted and realized she'd grown used to their little telepathic exchanges.<p>

Amy swirled her drink and tilted her head while the woman in the mini skirt moved closer to Jerry, sliding a hand up and down his arm.

Another girl might have felt jealous but Amy was not a girl and the woman was merely dinner.

The woman was dragging Jerry onto the dance floor. The woman was a poor dancer, all roll of the hips and no style. Jerry, restrained in his movements, merely swayed a bit from side to side: he hated dancing – flashes of 1920s music, of a smoky jazz club and Jerry at a table in an impeccable white suit rushed through her mind. A fragment of his memory followed by another moment, this time in the 1970s, with Johnny Alucard toasting to New York; the decade in full disco mode. Jerry watched the others make fools of themselves.

_I partied with Andy Warhol. _

Amy rolled her eyes and held her thoughts. Jerry could be so silly sometimes, trying to impress her with little tidbits of history. But she wasn't going to show any awe this time. She turned around and moved up the stairs, towards the second level of the club.

And then he slid next to her. It took her a few seconds to react. Then her mouth fell open.

She might have sworn it was a hallucination, that she was only imagining Charley after many weeks of longing. But he was there and he was real. Amy wanted to touch him. Amy wanted to throw herself into his arms. She stilled herself. Jerry was close. Real close.

Amy kept walking and Charley walked with her.

"What are you doing here?" she asked and was surprised to find her voice sounded close to a hiss.

"I came to find you."

"How did you…You shouldn't have."

They reached the top of the stairs and Amy leaned against the bannister, looking down at the dancers, finding Jerry in the crowd and making sure he wasn't looking in her direction. Then she slid back, towards a large reserved table which was half-hidden by a thick column.

"I've been worried sick about you. I couldn't stop—"

"You should have stopped," she said pressing her back against the column and glancing up at Charley. "He'll kill you if he sees you."

"I've come to take you away."

"Take me away?" Amy said shaking her head. "Oh, no. No."

"Well, you don't want to stay here, do you? He's kept you his prisoner, hasn't he?"

"Who told you how to find me?" Amy asked, crossing her arms.

"Amy, you don't _want_ to be with him. Right?"

The earnestness in Charley's face in that moment was the same one which had attracted her to him in the first place. It was pure and sweet. A boy's tremulous smile. It made her tingle inside.

Then she remembered wanting to bite him, wanting to kill him in that basement when the hunger, the scent of his blood, had sent her gnashing her teeth like a shark.

"You must leave," she said, turning her head.

"I will not leave. Not without you."

"I'm staying with Jerry."

"Don't call him that."

"Call him what?"

"By his name."

"What should I call him?"

"The monster. The vampire."

She wanted to laugh but Charley's eyes were made of stone. She pressed her hands against her mouth and shook her head.

"Oh, Charley—I am also a monster."

"Amy, I know someone who can help us. I know—"

She felt Jerry reaching towards her, wondering where she was. Amy's eyes widened and she looked around nervously.

"You have to go."

"I have to talk to you."

"Not here and not now."

"Where?"

Amy licked her lips. "There is an all-night diner at 7th and Ash. Tomorrow, at midnight. Go now."

Charley began walking away. He stopped to stare at her and she thought she glimpsed a familiar face waiting for him – Peter Vincent – before he vanished in a whirl of people.

Amy scratched the column with her fingernails, wanting to tear it apart. Wanting—

"We are ready to go," Jerry said. "She's more than drunk and won't know what hit her. Easy kill."

Jerry was smiling, if you could call it a smile. His grin resembled the gash left by a knife, cutting his face in two. His eyes were dark and cold and had the chill of many winters. For the very first time his great age frightened her, even repulsed her.

"I'll pass, thanks," she muttered.

"You'll what?"

"I'm heading home."

"You've got to be able to hunt, precious."

She laughed. She wished to cry but she laughed and she brushed him away, rushing down the steps and into the night.

#

She filled the tub with scalding water and dipped into it, staring at the accumulated dirt between the cracks of the tiles. The water cooled and she did not move an inch. He walked in then, perhaps an hour after the nightclub, perhaps an eternity after it. Amy did not care.

"You're ugly when you act like a bitch," Jerry told her, leaning against the sink.

Amy did not bother replying. She pressed her lips together tightly and shrugged.

_Come on, beautiful. A temper is one thing. But pissing me off_—

She rose from the tub and slammed a mental door shut, cutting off his words. Quietly she pulled the plug and watched the water drain. She reached for her towel and wrapped it around her waist, gingerly walking back to the bedroom. She made it almost as far as the bed before he sank his claws into her arm and then shoved her onto the mattress. He leaned down, his mouth opening in a vicious snarl, face contorted into that of a beast, rows of sharp teeth inches from her face.

"What happens if I chop your head off right now, hmm?" he asked.

"You have no sword," she said, trying to mock him.

"I don't need one."

Amy shuddered and there was a bit of honest fear in her as she stared at him.

"You're not going to make it to the next decade with your attitude," he said, his long fingernails sliding across her skull. "And then all of this will have been in vain, hmm?"

"I hate you," she muttered.

"I actually like it when you say that," he replied, his face shifting back to its human shape.

She punched him. Hard. Hard enough to hurt. He retaliated by squeezing her arms, digging his nails into her skin. Amy snarled and bit his neck. He pulled her away – but not before she'd torn a great, big chunk of skin – and pinned her like a butterfly against the bed, his mouth suffocating her. She kissed him back but she also bit him, drawing blood. But he didn't mind. He also bit her and their blood mingled in their mouths, making her arch her neck with languid pleasure.

"He never fucked you." Jerry said.

Amy knew who he was talking about. He was making fun of Charley. It was a game he liked to play, mocking the vampire hunters. She wasn't in the mood for it.

"What do you care who I fucked?" she muttered. "Are we exchanging numbers? I bet you win."

"I could tell. You were so hungry for me. Just like you are now. A little suburban slut."

She slapped him. It only made him laugh. Jerry didn't bother taking off all his clothes, simply unzipping his pants and moving on top of her.

In the midst of their love making she scratched his chest and sipped his blood while he threw his head back, grunting both her name and a sharp curse.

#

"I saw a painting that looked like you, once. This chick, tits showing."

"God, I love it when you get romantic," Amy said rolling her eyes.

"It was one of those good paintings. A Titian or some other pricey shit."

They lay entwined in the hour before the dawn, her hair spread out over the pillow and the way her face was tilted had reminded him of the painting. Jerry had not known anything about art when he'd first seen it but nobody had to explain to him it was a Venus. It was a sacred symbol. Jerry was used to the profane, to the earthly, to the dirt and grime – for this reason, the image had quite shocked him. It represented an unattainable, distant place.

He wondered if he had turned Amy for this very reason. Because he could tarnish the innocent, defile and twist and change that Venus.

Unused to pondering his psyche, Jerry shrugged and nibbled her shoulder.

"I never saw anyone who looked like you," Amy muttered. "I wanted you to bite me."

"Not an unexpected reaction to my blood," he replied.

"Before that. I was…aroused. If I go to hell it'll be because of that."

Amy looked quite embarrassed by this admission and his first instinct was to crack up laughing. Like it mattered that she'd had some dirty little fantasies about him before he turned her.

"There is no hell. No fire and brimstone."

"How do you know? And haven't you ever wanted to change? Wanted a way out?" she asked.

He grabbed her hand between his, examining the slender fingers, the delicate knuckles and the tiny wrists.

"No."

"I'm not myself anymore."

"So what? Be anyone you want to be."

"Jerry," she said and she sounded sad.

Amy brushed a hand over his face, very gently, barely touching him.

"I don't hate you," she whispered, as though she were confessing to a priest.

Jerry buried his face in the crook of her neck.

"Me too," he said. "Me too."


	17. Chapter 17

**Different Light**

**By Hedge Labyrinth**

AU: Jerry survived his confrontation with Charley.

**Note: Not to sound needy, but I'd really appreciate some reviews. I don't know if people are still reading this.  
><strong>

* * *

><p>Amy felt the minutes ticking inside her head. Tick tick tick they went. Midnight inched closer. The witching hour.<p>

"We are out of beer. I'll get some and stop at the drugstore for some magazines," she said, trying to sound relaxed and casual.

Jerry was in front of the television, guffawing. He didn't even look at her, merely waving a hand in her direction.

"Yup," he said.

Amy bit her lip and hesitated. She didn't want to sneak out like a thief. But she'd promised Charley. She must go to him. She leaned down behind Jerry and pressed a quick kiss to his nape. He chuckled, eyes fixed on the screen.

Amy hurried down the street, hands deep in her pockets. When she reached the diner she didn't see Charley at first and for one moment she felt exceptionally giddy, glad she could turn back and climb the steps up to their apartment. But he was there, at the back, with Peter Vincent.

Amy shuffled forward and sat across him, something turning and aching inside her body.

"I don't have much time," she muttered. "Jerry will be expecting me back soon."

"We don't need a lot of time," Charley said, leaning forward.

He extended a hand, placing it on top of hers. Amy looked down as his fingers curled around her wrist.

"Listen, we have…a friend. He'll help us. We can go right now and he'll get us out of the city and Jerry will never be able to find us."

"Jerry will always find me," Amy said.

Charley made a face at that and shook his head.

"I know about this vampire blood connection, but it won't matter. There are ways…places where even he can't trace you."

"That's not true."

"It is true. Peter?"

Peter Vincent seemed busy lightning his cigarette, but he stopped for a second to look at Amy. He nodded. Amy thought she could smell stale liquor on his breath. Something very sweet and fruity.

"We do have a friend and he did say he'd help," Peter said.

"And once I'm free of Jerry, what'll we do? Shall I enroll back in high school? I don't think I want to repeat senior year for all eternity."

"We'll figure it out," Charley said with honest enthusiasm.

He could almost see Charley imagining a _Twilight_-like scenario except Amy knew it didn't work quite like that. It was messy, filled with murder, hunger and lots of blood. Sleeping in the dirt and fearing the peasants with torches and frankly Amy didn't know she could do it all without Jerry.

"Charley, I've come to say goodbye," she said.

Charley looked a bit incredulous. He slid his hand back and plucked a cigarette from Peter Vincent's freshly opened pack. Amy watched him strike a match and she wondered when he had picked the habit.

"You don't want to leave him."

"I am—he's teaching me stuff."

"Like how to kill people?" Charley asked.

A bored-looking waitress stopped by to dump two cups of coffee on their table. They were all quiet for a minute or two, but as soon as the woman walked away Charley began speaking again, tearing a pack of sugar with each couple of words.

"You realize what kind of guy this is? We are talking about a thief, a liar, a mass murderer since the 17th century. This is a guy who likes to toy with people like they're puppets on a string. He's a maniac with a very nasty sense of humour. Peter and I have been finding out a bit about him and oh boy, this man was a soldier who—"

"He was a mercenary," she said.

Charley seemed taken aback by the comment. Amy pulled a strand of hair behind her ear and shrugged.

"If you're going to talk about him, you might as well get the facts straight."

Charley brushed aside his packets of sugar and picked his spoon. He stirred his coffee, eyes fixed on her.

"Yeah, he was a mercenary. Look, the point is we can get you from beneath Dandrige's thumb."

"And whose thumb would I be under then?" Amy asked, crossing her arms. "Yours? Peter's?"

"You wouldn't—"

"Look, the day I want to ditch Jerry I can do it by myself."

As soon as she said it Amy realized she meant it. She hadn't thought she could do it before, but sitting there under the harsh restaurant's lights she realized that if she wanted, she could leave Jerry out in the cold. She didn't need Charley or Peter to rescue her.

This was…this was her choice. And it wasn't that she was coming down with a case of Stockholm Syndrome. It was…hell, she wasn't sure what it was. Vampires should stick together? You never forget your first bite? It was convenient? She actually _liked_ Jerry? Whatever it was, she wasn't rushing off with Charley.

And Charley must have known this because his face went all slack.

"Charley, I'm sorry," she muttered. "I've got to head home."

"Oh," Charley mumbled. "We can walk you outside."

They stood under a lamppost, Peter looking all uncomfortable and awkward while Charley just reeked of misery and cigarettes. She felt sorry for him.

Amy nodded and exhaled deeply.

"Bye, Charley."

"Amy, wait," he said.

He extended his arms, intending to give her a hug. Amy didn't really want a hug but she also didn't want to run like he was some sort of leper. She simply closed her eyes, feeling his warm body against hers.

There was a bright stab of pain as something lodged in her neck. Amy's eyes snapped open and she shoved him away, raising a hand to her throat. She opened her mouth to yell at him. Her tongue felt bloated. Her face tingled.

Amy raised her hands and Peter snapped a pair of handcuffs around them. She grunted, irritated, ready to rip them off…

…and fell to her knees breathing heavily.

Eyelids half-closed she looked up at Charley.

"It's going to be fine," he assured her. "We are all going to be fine."

_Jerry_, she thought.

#

The thought startled him and the bottle slipped through his fingers, splintering against the floor. Jerry sat up straight, frowning, listening for more.

Nothing came. Nothing except for that bright moment of pain.

He narrowed his eyes. He'd seen Charley at the nightclub. The idiot was not hard to miss. He hadn't said a thing – at least, not openly – because he wanted to see what the bozo would do. Wanted to see what _Amy_ would do.

He didn't think Charley would hurt her. But what if Charley was going all Van Helsing versus Lucy on her? Saving her soul with a stake and all that shit.

Jerry gnashed his teeth, sinking his claws into the arms of the couch.

#

Jonathan pulled his shades down as he pushed open the door of the limo, observing both men with a smirk.

"Come in, gentlemen," he said.

They shoved the girl in, Peter Vincent looking more terrified than the boy. Charley just seemed really surprised.

"Mmm… good job," Jonathan said, tipping Amy's chin up a bit. The girl was limp, completely out of it. "Gotta love a high dose of ketamine laced with some garlic."

"I didn't think it would cause this reaction," Charley mumbled.

"You better be glad it caused this reaction. Otherwise she might be tearing your throat. Close the damn door, we better get back to my place. We'll be safe there."

Jonathan didn't want to sound like a scared little boy, but he _was_ a bit worried that Jerry might have been following the girl and might be ready to pounce on them. Jonathan was many things but he wasn't a fool and he'd never take on Jerry Dandridge without some assistance. Now, with the Master…well, that would be another story. Last time it had been dumb luck that had saved Jerry from becoming vampire bacon. With the Master resurrected and energized by the desire for vengeance, and with Jonathan's men and weapons, the outcome would be very different the second time around.

As for the humans…well, if Jerry didn't kill them first then the Master would later. Either way, it was going to be a fun weekend.

"Remember our deal," Charley said. "We kill Jerry and get to keep Amy."

"Killing Jerry has such a nice ring to it, yes."

Charley closed the door and the limo began to move slowly away.

Jonathan grinned, Amy's face reflecting against his dark shades.


	18. Chapter 18

**I've been busy with other stories and this one kind of fell through the cracks. I'm not sure if people are still interested in seeing it finished it, but I might be able to do it by the end of the year.  
><strong>

**Chapter 18**

She opened her eyes to find herself being dragged through heavy oak doors, into a large chamber that resembled a museum more than a regular room. There were plush velvet hangings and a multitude of oil paintings in gilded frames. In the center of the room she spotted a sarcophagus. She thought she'd seen something like it before in a history book…Etruscan? Roman? She couldn't remember. Anyway, it was of white marble, with the likeness of a man sculpted on it.

"What's happening?" Amy whispered.

"Bring it down."

There was a metallic whirring and she watched as a contraption was lowered from the ceiling. It was a large cabinet, with a hinged front, tall enough to enclose a human being. There were spikes running inside it.

She'd seen such stuff in old horror movies. It belonged right with the sequences of Medieval peasants chasing the monster up a tower, torches in hand.

Ah, so it had happened. Death. It had happened and no one could help her.

"An iron maiden," she muttered.

"What is that?" Charley asked. "What are you doing?"

"Get her in," someone said.

"No! You said she'd be fine!"

"Nothing she can't handle."

Amy's head felt like it was filled with cotton. Nevertheless, when they started dragging her towards the iron maiden she tried to pull herself away. She managed to extricate herself from their grip and slash at one of the fellows holding her for a few seconds before stumbling upon the floor.

"We need more ketamine!"

They grabbed her and she growled as she felt the pinch of another injection. Her breath slowed down. Her eyes were heavy. Amy opened her mouth and no words came out.

"Get her in."

They shoved her inside the metal device. She had a chance, for a fleeting second, to stare at the metal covering with the face of a woman, her mouth stretched into an o. Then they shoved her in. She saw Charley and Peter and a blond man wearing sunglasses who she recognized as Johnny Alucard. Someone had socked Charley in the face and Peter was helping him up. The man with the sun glasses smiled.

_Serves Charley right_, she thought, but she was also sad. Surely they were going to kill them all. Poor Charley. Poor Peter.

"Whirl her up," he said.

They closed the doors of the iron maiden. The spikes penetrated her body, going through her shoulders, her arms, her legs. Her limbs felt like lead but the pain sputtered through her body, like an electric current. She twitched, muscles involuntarily trying to find release, and felt blood sliding down her arms. And the pain…the pain also slid down, knotting in her stomach until she thought she might vomit.

But her mouth was dry. Dry and parched.

A mechanism had been activated and now the iron maiden was being hoisted up again. The iron machine shivered and she shivered with it.

_Jerry_, she thought, but she knew he wasn't there. She couldn't reach him. The ketamine and whatever else they'd done to her had broken their link. Still, she repeated the name as another bolt of pain struck her, making her gasp.

They were dragging something heavy. She had no idea what it was. It sounded…_so heavy_. And she felt so weak.

Tears slid down her cheeks. The pain was excruciating. She had stopped flaying. All it did was dig the spikes deeper into her flesh. All it did was increase the terrible feeling engulfing her.

The iron maiden tilted a bit and began to descend, chains creaking.

"Please let me out," she whispered. She wasn't sure if she had whispered that or screamed it.

The contraption landed back on the floor and they opened the doors. Amy stumbled forward and almost tripped as her knees hit the stone sarcophagus she'd noticed before. They had removed the lid. Amy looked down into it, fear and curiosity making her see, even though she didn't want to see. She just wanted to sleep. She wanted this to be over.

There was nothing inside. Just…dust, which was now speckled with her blood. Amy rested a palm against the sarcophagus, gasping, fearing she was going to pass out and fall into it.

Motes of dust rose before her eyes. She stood her, eyes glassy, watching them whirl around. More and more dust, each second growing…different….darker…more solid…until she realized she was looking at a shape. The shape of a person.

The burnt remains of _someone_.

Amy stepped back. She found the strength to shuffle back but the darkness from the coffin stretched an arm out and clutched her by the neck. She watched as muscles began knitting themselves together until she was looking at the skinless body of a man. The man opened his eyes; opened his mouth to show sharp, glinting fangs.

She screamed, then, and her scream bounced across the room before she finally closed her eyes and descended back into merciful darkness.

#

Jerry walked around the city, looking up at the buildings, staring at all the windows. He moved faster now, his eyes growing darker. He couldn't sense her. She was still there, but he didn't know _where_.

It began to rain. He had no jacket and no umbrella. It didn't matter. He couldn't feel the cold and even if he could it wouldn't have mattered. Icy water trailed down his back.

He dashed into an alley and slammed his fists against a metal dumpster. In a fury, he clawed at the walls of the alley, like a wild animal. He bit his own lip until blood welled and he felt pain.

Morning would come soon. He needed to get back inside. He needed to calm down. He needed…

"Fuck!"

He pressed a hand against the wall and hurried to compose himself.

He was not a child. He knew very well who was behind this. It couldn't be _just_ Peter and Charley. She would have handled them. This had to be _him_. Johnny Alucard.

Jerry promised himself he'd find that bastard and pull out each and every tooth in his mouth before killing the bugger.

Of course, that's probably what Johnny wanted. He knew what other vampires thought of him. They thought Jerry was all muscle and no brains, but Jerry wasn't _stupid_. Reckless, but not an idiot. If Johnny had her that probably meant…well, it probably meant the Master.

"Amy," he muttered.

#

"Jerry," she whispered.

Amy opened her eyes and pushed herself up, gasping. She was in a bed, in a room, in darkness. But that wasn't a problem for a vampire. She could see the outlines of the furniture, the pattern of the carpet.

She looked at her hands, thinking she'd find them mangled and bloody. But they were clean and the flesh seemed…fine. Amy discovered a light switch and turned it on, examining her hands more carefully. She spotted a discoloration on each palm, where the spikes had gone through.

She was wearing a white night gown that reached her ankles, with frilly ribbons at the neck. Amy tugged it down to look at her shoulders. The same discoloration.

"Hey, don't worry, it heals."

No human could enter a room so quietly. Even without this little detail she knew there was a vampire near. She looked over her shoulder at the man with sunglasses.

"I know."

"Sorry about the little number before, but we needed your blood…and we didn't think you'd give it willingly."

"Why?" she muttered.

"To resurrect the Master, of course. We needed the blood of the one who killed him."

"I've never met the Master."

"But you share a bloodline with Jerry. And he did. Anyway, do you remember me? I'm Johnathan," the man said extending his hand.

Amy did not take it. She just stared at him with icy disdain, her hands curling into a fist. She was still weak. She could feel it in her bones. But, oh, she wanted to take a swipe at him.

_I will_, she promised herself. _Later, I will_.

"Johnny Alucard," she said, using the same dismissive nickname Jerry had used at the night club.

The blond man took off his glasses, frowning at her.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

"The Master is not back to his full strength. We still need you, need your blood. The Master needs a couple more chances to feed from you. But after that...I'm afraid you become disposable."

Amy felt fear lurking in the back of her brain. But fear wasn't going to do her any good. It never had. Especially in this company.

_Jerry wouldn't have been afraid_, she told herself. Jerry would have laughed in the face of his captors and that's exactly what _she_ would do. The same damn thing Jerry might do. There was no playing the scared maiden. She was of his same bloodline, after all. That meant she had Jerry's strengths and all these guys - guys like Johnny Alucard - were small potatoes compared to her.

She wasn't going to offer him the indignity of fear.

"Then let's just hope Jerry kills you before that," Amy replied.

"Jerry, please," Johnny said with dismissive chuckle. "That Neanderthal should be dead by the end of the week. And so, as I was trying to explain, it would be a good idea for you to side with the winning side, hmm? After all, to the victor go the spoils."

Johnny extended a hand, brushing her arm with a long fingernail. Amy swatted his hand away.

"I'll be damned if I'm going to be passed around to _another_ God damn vampire," she said.

Really, what was this? An audition for The Real Vampire Whores of Detroit? Being kidnapped by one vampire was quite enough. No way was she now going to play arm candy for this yuppie.

"Look, precious, I'm not sure you understand. Jerry is...he's a loser, really. I have more money, more power and more brains than that silly foot soldier can ever know. Get a clue and join the major leagues, alright?"

Amy was quiet for a minute, as though she were seriously considering the proposition.

"Yeah, but there's one thing you don't have," she said, very seriously.

"What's that?"

Amy leaned up, whispering to his ear. "A big cock."

Johnny gave her a hard slap that sent her stumbling back, landing on the floor. Amy could taste her own blood in her mouth. It gave her a deep satisfaction to see how easily he lost his control.

_Jerry, wouldn't_, she thought. _He'd taunt and play, but he_ _wouldn't crumble so quickly. _

"Listen, you are going to do as I say," he said, sounding like a petulant child.

Amy grinned, a low chuckle escaping her throat.

"You're lame," she said. "You're pathetic."

She laughed. When Johnny took a few steps towards her, as if to kick her, she laughed harder, showing her teeth. Like a wild animal. Johnny stopped. She saw the way he twitched and she could tell he was suddenly intimidated.

Clearly, this was not the way he had expected this scene to play. He'd probably thought she'd collapse easily, fold like a deck of cards. But if she'd learned something from Jerry it was how to survive. She hadn't even fully realized, until this very moment, how his lessons had infiltrated her core. She'd become like him, despite all her protestations. The thought only made Amy laugh harder.

"Laugh it up. Okay, fine. Get back in bed and get some rest. You'll be needed later," Johnny muttered, putting on his sunglasses and running a hand through his hair. "Fucking teenager."

Amy wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, the coppery taste of her own blood pleasantly soothing. Her head was throbbing from the drugs they'd given her. She crawled back to bed and drifted under the covers. The bed felt all wrong.

God, she was actually missing the dirty basement Jerry enjoyed so much.

"Small, confined spaces," she muttered.

#

Charley jumped to his feet as soon as Johnny walked through the door.

"Okay, what the hell do you think you're doing? Hurting Amy. Keeping us in this hell hole!"

"It's called a room," Johnny said with a sigh.

Yes, it was a room. And it had a mini-fridge. And Peter had been raiding it, getting plastered for the past hour. Okay, Charley had also indulged in a drink and a smoke, but that wasn't the point. The point was Johnny's men had just dumped them in there without a word and Charley was worried sick about his girlfriend.

"As for Amy, there's no permanent damage. In fact, I just came back from chatting with her and she's doing just fine. She's probably taking a nap by now."

"You talked to Amy?"

"Yes, buddy. Sadly, she's still under the diabolical influence of Jerry Dandridge. But the sooner we kill him, the sooner you can have her back. How about that?"

Charley frowned. It was what he'd signed up for, killing Jerry, but he didn't like the way things were turning out. Johnny had never mentioned anything about hurting Amy or hauling a really big sarcophagus out of storage so he could resurrect...well, that guy they had resurrected.

"There's not a lot of killing we can do if we are locked away, can we?" Charley said.

"Look, I'm sorry about this. How about tomorrow, at sundown, you come and check some of the weapons I have lined up for us? Maybe we can all have dinner with the Master."

"I'm not sure I want to have dinner with a vampire," Peter piped from the other side of the room. He was just opening a little bottle of tequila and had frozen mid-motion when he spoke.

"We'll invite Amy," Johnny said.

"Yeah, for sure," Charley said.

"Good," Johnny said. He rested a hand on Charley's shoulder. "The only thing is...I'm not sure how she's going to react. Jerry Dandridge really brainwashed the girl. It's a typical case of Stockholm Syndrome. But look, we'll take it by ear, okay? And anyway, once he's dead she'll be fine as rain."

Johnny smiled at them before stepping out. Charley sat on the bed. He patted his pockets, looking for a smoke. Peter hovered closer, extending a cigarette and offering him his lighter.

Charley took a drag, shaking his head. "Brainwashed."

"Look, Charley, I don't want to be an ass...but I wouldn't trust anything a guy like Johnny Alucard says."

"What do you mean?"

"I think we should be getting the hell out of hear. Like, now. I almost pissed my pants when they brought that vampire back from the dead. Holy shit, I don't want have to have dinner with him. Let's just go."

"We came all the way to get Amy back."

"You heard Johnny. She's nuts!"

"She's confused!" Charley said. "We are going to save her just like we said we would."

"Oh, for Fuck's sake," Peter muttered and he began gulping the bottle of alcohol he had been carrying around.

Charley clutched his hands together. That's what it was all about. Saving his girlfriend. Maybe he could even turn her human again. Hey, if you can make a dead guy rise again from his ashes, who said you couldn't remove a vampire's curse?

"It's going to be okay," Charley said, the cigarette dangling from his lips.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

The dining room was opulent, filled with heavy furniture and gleaming silverware. A bona-fide chandelier – the kind that appeared only in movies – dangled from the ceiling. It was very theatrical and upon looking at the room Amy understood why Johnny had asked that she don a long, crimson dress that would have been right at home in a Parisian runway: he'd done it because it was exactly what the set-up demanded.

As she walked closer to the table, she saw that Charley and Peter had also dressed for the occasion. Johnny had seen fit to clad them in matching tuxedos, while Johnny himself wore a gray suit with a crimson tie. As for the Master, he was attired all in black and he sat at the head of the table. He might have looked elegant, except for his horrid appearance: the master had no skin. She saw the muscles, the redness of the veins and arteries, but no skin. Flayed. He was a living, breathing, flayed corpse. A corpse which grabbed a wine glass and smiled at her. His fangs gleamed a pristine white.

"Thank you for joining us," he said.

"It's not like I could refuse," Amy said.

"I hope you will excuse my appearance, but I have not fully regenerated. I shall be needing some more of your precious blood before the night is over."

Johnny sat next to Amy and snapped his fingers. A servant filled his glass then quickly moved next to her, ready to fill her glass in turn. She set her hand above it.

"I never drink…wine," she said. "Do you have a beer?"

"Beer and blood. You'll need more of the later, but you may have the former for now. We need you to stay healthy," the Master purred.

_You need me alive, until you heal properly_, _skinless bastard, _Amy thought, but she smiled prettily. Someone handed her a beer and she downed it quickly.

"I'll have another," she said, when she was done.

"We wouldn't want you to get drunk," Johnny warned her.

"I can drink a lot more than that. I would like a second beer."

"Beer," Johnny snickered, snatching off his sunglasses. "You've been spending too much time with Dandridge. Give her some wine. _Beer_."

"I didn't ask for wine," Amy said.

"You'll ask for what I tell you to ask," Johnny said.

"Is your lapdog always so rude?" Amy asked, glancing at the Master.

There was a long, uncomfortable silence.

Johnny clutched his glasses between his hands, a deep frown creasing his brow. Peter Vincent gulped down his wine, looking nervous as hell. Charley didn't look nervous. He was just serious, his face a clean slate, his eyes fixed on her.

The Master chuckled.

"Ah, you have some spirit in you, don't you Miss Peterson? That's splendid. Get the girl another beer."

They placed another beer in front of her and Amy nodded, lifting the bottle.

"Cheers," she said politely, guzzling the drink and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. When she was done, she pushed the bottle away from her and leaned back in her chair. "Now, I'd like to know what we are doing here."

"We are having dinner, Miss Peterson."

"You mean you don't intend to hang me from a big meat hook and drink my blood for a bit?"

The Master chuckled. "You must forgive me. The iron maiden may be antiquated but that was…necessary. But now we can all be civilized. We can have a civilized dinner."

"In exchange for what?"

"Pardon me?"

"What do you want from me?"

"The lady is direct," the Master said, pressing his hands together. "Very well, explain it to her, Johnny."

"We were expecting Jerry to show up here, to try and rescue you. Unfortunately he seems to have done exactly the opposite."

"What do you mean?"

"He's hightailed out of the city."

Jerry had abandoned her? Amy set her mouth in a firm line, trying not to let the hurt show. Her mouth suddenly felt dry as parchment, her heart near to bursting.

"That's that, then," Amy said.

"No, that's not _that_," Johnny said smoothly. "We want you to find him and lead us to him. You can do it. You are linked to him."

"It's not a GPS navigator," Amy muttered. "Besides, you've got me high on so many meds I can hardly remember my name. And how am I supposed to lead—"

Johnny rolled his eyes dramatically. "We'll let you go, you tell him you escaped. You link with Jerry, meet up with him, then you contact us and we kill him."

"You think I'll lead you to Jerry so you can kill him? You're a bunch of deluded losers."

"Amy, he is a monster," Charley said.

He sounded like such a _child_, when he spoke. She wished she could slap him. It might give him some much needed common sense.

"Wake up, Charley," Amy said spreading her hands. "We are all monsters here."

"We are here to help you," Charley replied, adamant.

Amy crossed her arms, snickering. She shook her head in a firm no. Johnny let out a deep sigh. He took out a little piece of cloth and began wiping his sunglasses clean, making a clicking sound with his tongue.

"I told you, she's a tough cookie," Johnny said.

"I can see that," the Master said.

The vampire rose, slowly walking around the table. His long nails scraped the back of the chairs. Amy sat very still as he drifted closer to her. She expected him to touch her, perhaps to bash her head against the table. Instead he moved by. He walked a little more and stopped next to Charley. Suddenly, the Master placed his hand on the boy's head.

"Vampires are very strong, aren't they Mr. Vincent?" the Master asked casually.

Peter gulped. He looked like he was trying to sink beneath the table.

"I asked you a question, Mr. Vincent," the vampire hissed.

"Yes," Peter yelped.

"In your expert opinion, how strong are they?"

"They...ah...can seriously injure a human with a few simple blows."

"What determines the strength of a vampire?"

"Several factor...Um, the type of vampire...Age...The older the vampire, the stronger it is."

"There you have it, from the expert," the Master said coolly. "I'll have you know I am very old. Very strong. Mr. Vincent, how long would it take to crush the head of her boyfriend?"

"He's not my boyfriend," Amy muttered, feeling breathless.

"Too bad for him."

The Master started squeezing Charley's head. Charley's eyes were open wide, his mouth also opened, but he did not scream. It seemed more horrible that he did not scream.

For a moment, she thought she would be able to stand it. After all, she had tried to kill Charley herself, once, in the basement of Jerry's house. After all, she had killed other people. Corpses were not a new occurrence anymore. And who said if she helped the Master, he'd let them go? Or he'd let her go?

But Charley's eyes…

"No, wait!"

The Master stopped squeezing.

She glanced at Charley, their eyes locking for a moment before she turned her head.

"Fine," she said. "I'll do it."

"Good," the Master said, smirking.

Amy felt she might shatter, like glass upon the floor. She wanted to scream and tremble. She wanted to bite her own hand. No damn way. Jerry wouldn't tremble.

"Give me another beer," she said, just like Jerry would have said.

Survival of the fittest. She'd learned her lessons well.

Amy felt like she was a thousand miles from home, standing at the edge of a deserted island and staring at the sea.

And then they handed her the beer and she drank it slowly, savoring the taste.


End file.
